by S. A. Hunter
She pulled out her lunch and munched contemplatively. Ricky was the reason she was in this mess, but she didn’t know how to deal with him. Maybe he wasn’t such a big threat anymore. He certainly hadn’t paid any attention to her when she’d called to him during her third visit.
“Gran said she’d make some stuff up to help against Ricky. But how am I going to give the stuff to Cy? He thinks I’m nuts as it is. Trying to make him take a juju bag or a charm is going to be impossible. Maybe we could slip it into his backpack?” Mary turned to Rachel to see what she thought.
“Why the sudden interest in helping Cy?”
Her eyebrows scrunched together. “What do you mean sudden? Isn’t this what we’ve been doing for a week now?”
“Yeah, but before I had to pull you kicking and whining to do anything. Has something new happened?”
Mary thought about her run-in with Kyle, but she didn’t really feel like telling Rach about that less than stellar moment, and it really didn’t have any bearing on the Ricky problem. “No, but I figure a few charms couldn’t hurt.”
“Humph.” Rachel turned back to her book.
Mary was getting tired of the passive-aggressive treatment. “What’s wrong with you?”
Rachel snapped her book shut. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? Because obviously there must be something wrong with me.”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
Mary laughed, which was the wrong response. Rachel began shoving her stuff into her book bag. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Rachel said.
Mary was even more confused. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Like nothing happened at Cy’s house?”
That again? She took a deep breath. “Nothing happened at his house. Ricky didn’t say anything. I swear.”
“You’re not telling me everything.”
“What am I not telling you?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Then how do you know I’m not telling you everything?”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to spill are you?”
“Spill WHAT!”
Rachel jerked her book bag on and stood up. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore until you’re ready to tell me.”
“Tell you what?” But Rachel turned and strode to the school entrance.
“Rach!” She entered the school without a glance back. Mary sat there in bewilderment. Jeez, she didn’t need this today. What was Rach so sure Mary wasn’t telling her? She grabbed her stuff and tried to catch up with her, but she’d disappeared. She scowled at how crappy her day was turning out and headed for her locker.
As she approached, she saw a folded piece of paper sticking out of a vent. She plucked the paper out and opened it. She was expecting a rude poem or maybe a drawing, but instead it was a note.
Mary,
Ditch school and meet me at my house. I found something you have to see.
--Cy
She didn’t think twice about ditching school. Whatever Cy had found had to be important. It could be Ricky’s anchor. If it were, she really didn’t want him messing with it. A ghost was very protective of its anchor, it being the ghost’s only tie to the physical plane. If someone destroyed the anchor, the ghost would have to move on, and Ricky hadn’t shown any inclination of heading toward the light.
She wished she could tell Rachel about the new development, but she couldn’t waste time looking for her. Cy could be in trouble if he had found Ricky’s anchor. Mary wondered what it was. As she’d told Rachel the other day, anchors could be anything.
Chapter 12
Showdown
She speed walked to Cy’s house. She’d dumped all of her things in her locker and walked straight out of school. She was a mess of nerves. She wasn’t worried about missing school. She couldn’t care less. She was worried about what she’d find. She wished he’d come and gotten her instead of leaving her that note to meet him.
When she got there, she saw that there weren’t any cars in the driveway. His parents were still at work, and Kyle was still at school. The thought of Kyle made her shudder. That guy had serious anger management issues. When she went up to the door, she noticed it was open a crack. She knocked on it anyway, but no one appeared. She pushed the door open.
“Cy?”
There was no answer. Frowning, she entered the house.
“Hello?” she called. There was still no answer. There was only one place she could think of that Cy could be and not answer her--The basement. She went through the living room to the basement door.
She stopped at the door with her hand on the knob. She was beginning to get a sinking feeling. If Cy were all right and waiting for her, he would’ve popped up by now. The thought that Ricky might have done something to him made her stomach twist, and now, the homicidal ghost was down there waiting for the next unsuspecting victim to show up, but Mary was not a victim.
She moved to the kitchen cabinets and looked through them. She found a heavy cast iron skillet. She wouldn’t be able to hurt Ricky directly with it, but it might be able to destroy his anchor. She went back to the basement door and opened it slowly. The basement light was already on. Someone had been down there or still was.
She considered calling out to Cy again but bit her tongue instead. She was afraid of who might answer. She crept down the stairs with her ears perked for any noises. She froze when she heard something scrape against the floor. She didn’t hear anything else as she tensely waited. She continued down the stairs one step at a time. She finally reached the basement floor and peered around. There was no sign of him.
“Cy?” she whispered. When no answer came, she took a few tentative steps from the stairs and slowly scanned the room. Where was he? Her hand tightened on the skillet.
“Ricky, what have you done?” she whispered.
From under the stairs, a pair of beefy arms clamped down around her and picked her up. She gasped in shock. She hadn’t expected an earthly attack.
“Well, if isn’t the witch,” a nasty voice said. “Were you going to fix me some eggs? Sorry, but I’m not hungry.”
She struggled to get free, but all she managed to do was drop the frying pan. It thumped to the ground below her dangling feet.
“Let me go, Kyle!”
“Why? I like you just where you are.” He chuckled and squeezed her tighter. She kicked back, and her heels hit his shins.
“Stop that!”
“And what are you going to do with me?”
Kyle chuckled and bounced her a little in his arms. “Oh, I don’t know. Play house maybe.”
“Not interested.” She threw her head back and hit him square on the nose.
He let out a yowl and dropped her. His hand went to his bleeding nose. She scrambled away. Kyle blocked the stairs. She knew she couldn’t get by him. Her eyes locked on the frying pan sitting on the floor. “I’ll get you for that!” he yelled.
He lunged at her with blood still streaming down his face. He wasn’t just acting like a homicidal maniac anymore, he now looked like one. She dodged his lunge and scooped up the fallen frying pan. She turned back to face him with it in a two handed grip.
“Not so big and bad now, are you, Kyle?” she taunted.
He snarled and rushed her again. She didn’t flinch. She twisted her body and pulled back her arms like a baseball hitter. She struck his shoulder with the flat side of the frying pan. He crashed into the cinder block wall and slid to the floor.
“Kill her. She isn’t any good, just like the other one. Always whining that I didn’t love her and that I should be nicer to her. I’ll show her nice.”
She looked around the room in astonishment. “So you decide to speak up now? What’s with you?”
Kyle hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen. She cautiously kicked his leg. He didn’t respond. “All right Ricky, where are you?”
she asked the basement walls. She tossed boxes aside as she searched for the anchor. She was done being careful with the searching. She was going to turn the basement upside down if that was what it took to find Ricky’s stupid anchor.
Ricky didn’t respond to her question. Mary was getting really tired of being ignored. “Ricky, where are you?” she demanded again.
“Guess,” Kyle said as he swept her legs out from under her.
“What?” Her left side hit the cement floor. A nasty bruise guaranteed for her elbow. The frying pan once again left her hands.
Kyle rolled on top of her, pinning her to the floor with his body. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head. She struggled to get him off of her, but he was too heavy.
“Are we starting to get the picture?”
“Yeah, I’m starting to get it,” she replied and kneed him in the groin, hard.
He let out a wheezy groan and rolled off her to cradle his crotch. She picked herself up and took a step back. She stared down at him with incredulous eyes. This was so much worse than she’d imagined.
“How’d it happen?” she asked.
He chuckled from the floor. He rolled to his knees. “No, no, no. I’ve got to keep some of my secrets.”
“Come on you can tell me.” She poked him with her foot.
“And I said no.” He leapt up, but she hustled back to stay out of reach.
“It has to be something. Ghosts need an anchor to keep them on this plane. How does a ghost possess a person through an anchor?” she wondered aloud.
“You won’t figure it out, until I let you,” he said and rushed her again. She tried to lunge out of the way, but one of his outstretched hands grabbed her and dragged her back to the floor. He pinned her down again.
“Get off me!” She kicked and shoved at him, but her strength was beginning to wane.
“Getting tired?”
“Yeah, of you.” To her right, she saw a lamp that had tumbled out of a box. It was round and hard. In a last ditch effort, she threw her hip and rolled them over to it. Kyle’s head cracked against the cement floor, and he groaned as he reached back to massage his skull. She sat up and grabbed the lamp. She hit him over the head with it. The lamp didn’t break, but he fell back limply. Blood started to trickle from a nasty cut to his temple.
She began rummaging through his pockets. He had to have the anchor on him. Ricky couldn’t possess him by remote control at least that was what she hoped. She searched frantically, patting down all of his pockets, raising his shirt and pant legs to see if anything was strapped or stuck to them.
She was perched on top of him, but she was focused too much on finding the anchor to realize he was coming around. He easily caught one of her wrists as she tried to lift his shirt. “Now, aren’t we fresh?” She pulled to free herself, but his fingers were like iron bands on her wrist. He lumbered to his feet, dragging her with him. She couldn’t twist her arm out of his grasp. She switched tactics and stomped on his feet to make him let go. He retaliated by backhanding her.
Her free hand flew to her face. Her eyes narrowed in anger, and her lips drew back in a snarl. Nobody slapped her, ever. She raised her foot and thrust kicked him in the stomach with all of her strength. He let go of her arm as he stumbled back. The locket slipped out of his shirt and glinted at his throat. She yanked it off him. He hissed in pain and turned to attack her but stopped mid-motion.
“Wait…what?” he asked in a dazed voice as he fell to his knees. He lifted his hands to his bleeding face. He stared at his fingertips perplexed when they came away bloody. “What the hell?”
“Kill HER!” Ricky shouted in stereo in her head. She gasped and dropped the necklace. Ricky’s anchor. The fool had been wearing the anchor.
“Kyle?” she asked.
“What’s happening?” He kept dabbing at his face and pulling his hands away to look at the blood smeared on them. He couldn’t seem to understand what it was.
“Do you remember anything?” She got down on one knee to look him in the eye. He stared at her wildly.
“I wanted to kill you,” he whispered.
“But now you don’t. It’s okay, but you gotta get out of here.”
Still in a bit of a daze, he got up off the floor and stumbled up the stairs. She picked up the locket and to follow him.
“You won’t get away from me that easily.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said to the empty room. She wrapped the chain of the locket around her fingers to keep from dropping it.
“We’ll be together forever. Just like it’s inscribed on that stupid locket.”
“If you hate it so much, why’d you anchor to it, idiot?” She moved to the stairs.
“I didn’t say you could go!”
She was almost to the first step when a stack of heavy boxes fell onto her. She covered her head to protect herself, but a heavy box knocked her down and twisted her ankle painfully.
“Like I said, you’re not leaving.” She dug herself out from under the boxes and scrambled out of the junk. She winced when she put weight on her left foot. She prayed that it was only sprained.. She limped to the stairs.
She began hopping up them. Halfway up, Ricky grabbed her bad foot and jerked her back down. She toppled to the bottom and hit her hurt ankle. She curled into a ball as she tried to deal with the sharp pain.
“Keep trying to get away. I haven’t had this much fun in years.”
She couldn’t take much more abuse. She had to end this, and the only way to do that was by destroying the locket. The frying pan. Where was the frying pan? Ricky must’ve been thinking the same thing. The frying pan came zooming across the room toward her head. She barely jerked out of the way. It hit the cinder block wall with a loud crack. The force of the impact bent it and made a hole in the wall. She stared at the bent frying pan for a second in horror. What if it had hit her head? Don’t ask stupid questions, she scolded herself and turned back to the stairs. She began to limp her way up again. She kept a double-handed grasp on the banister this time. The chain of the locket bit into her fingers. She was determined to make it to the top. Once she was out of the basement, she’d find some other way to destroy the locket.
“You women are all the same. Whining about when we’re here, and whining when we’re gone. Why don’t you make up your mind!”
“I’d be happy if you were gone,” Mary muttered.
He tugged on her legs as she climbed the stairs, but he couldn’t jerk her down them again. She grimaced each time he grabbed her bad leg but didn’t stop her ascent. She was getting out of that basement.
She reached the top with relief. She was almost out. The light from the kitchen bathed her face. She grabbed the door frame with one hand to pull herself through. The door slammed shut on her. She cried out in pain and would’ve taken another header down the stairs if she hadn’t been still clutching the banister with her other hand. It stung where the door had torn the skin on her knuckles, and a series of bruises was guaranteed across her fingers.
Ricky laughed. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Kyle!” she screamed and beat on the door. Boxes flew across the basement. Some of them hit the stairs and made them shudder. Kyle threw the door open in bewilderment.
“What’s going on? Why are you tearing up my basement?”
“It’s not me, idiot.” She pushed past him. What should she do now?
“Oh goody, the kitchen.” She stopped and looked around the kitchen in terror.
A drawer on the far side slid open, and an assortment of knives popped up.
“Kyle, duck and cover!” Kyle dropped to the floor and covered his head. The knives flew by him and like sharp little missiles flew toward her. She knocked the kitchen table over and ducked behind it. The knives plunged into it. Some poked out of the other side at her. Ricky had quite an arm. Kyle cowered in a corner and stared at the table and her.
“What’s going on?” he yelled.
“Badness,” she
replied. She slowly got up from the floor. How could she destroy the locket? Unfortunately, Ricky wouldn’t wait for her to think up a solution.
The front door burst open. Mary turned to it in terror, afraid to see what Ricky could have pulled in from the outside.
Chapter 13
Tag Team
“Did somebody order a cavalry?” Rachel shouted, charging into the room. She brandished a large wooden cross. Gran was right behind her. The old woman still had on her kitchen apron, and she had Chowder tucked under her arm. Mary came into the living room and stared at them in disbelief.
“What are you guys--?” she stammered.
“No time for explanations,” Gran said. “Have you found the anchor?”
Mary held up her hand with the locket.
Gran approached her with her hand outstretched. “Okay, now we have to destroy it.”
“You won’t get rid of me!” Ricky snarled.
“Wanna bet?” Mary asked the thin air.
“Yeah.” A force shoved her against the wall. Her head cracked against the wood paneling. Mary wondered if her brain was becoming black and blue from all these bangs she kept taking. Her arms fell listlessly to her sides, and the chain unraveled from her fingers. The necklace pooled to the floor.
“The anchor...” Her voice slurred in pain. It slithered across the floor and under the couch. Rachel jumped after it.
