▪ ▪ ▪
Winn looked down at the spot where they found Brent’s body years ago. You couldn’t see the blood anymore, but he knew the exact spot where Brent’s life had drained out into the desert sand.
Marty sat cross-legged on the ground under the tree, and he placed his hands on his legs. “I’m going to go into a trance, Winn. If you want, you can join me.”
Winn sat on the ground next to him and closed his eyes. He entered the River, and watched as Marty’s trance slowly formed around him, like a bubble. Once it was fully formed, he saw Marty open it to him, and he joined him.
Brent was sitting on the ground under the tree across from them, his closed hands in his lap as though he was sitting around a campfire, ready to have a chat. Winn saw that his legs were whole, and it surprised him. Every time he’d seen Brent recently he was wounded. This whole Brent reminded him of the time before the event, when they were just friends, playing in the trailer court and in the treehouse.
Brent? Marty asked.
Brent turned his head to look at the two of them. He looked relaxed and at ease, his back up against the tree. He crossed his feet at the ankles. He looked for all the world like a kid who was taking a break from the desert sun, resting quietly in the shade.
Yes? Brent said.
I’m here with Winn, Marty said.
My murderer, Brent replied.
Winn gulped. It had been a long time since he’d thought of himself that way.
He tried to save you, Marty said. Came to the cave to rescue you, and rode his bike to my house so I could call an ambulance for you.
He left me here to die, Brent said. Right here. Right where I’m sitting. There wasn’t any shade in this spot that morning, not like now. I remember. It kept feeling hotter and hotter, until I felt like I was going to burn up. Then it got really cold and it felt so good. Then you two showed up, like now.
That was six years ago, Marty said.
Really? Brent replied. It seems like yesterday.
You’ve been after Winn, haven’t you, Brent? Marty asked. You’ve been hounding him. Bothering him. Keeping him up at night.
Well, he used to come see me, Brent said, looking away. Then, out of the blue, he stopped. He ditched me. Again. I hate that, I hate being ditched. If he’s not going to come and see me, I figure, I’ll go see him.
Is that why you’re doing it? Marty asked. Because he stopped coming to see you out here?
That – and, oh yeah, because he killed me, Brent said, tossing the object he was holding from hand to hand.
Your death was an accident, Brent, Marty said.
Brent turned back to them. Winn saw Brent’s face change into the face he’d seen the night before. The soft features of his ten-year-old face morphed, his lips curling as he spoke.
It was no accident! Brent snarled, his body lifting a few inches from the ground under the tree. He rolled onto his stomach and floated toward them like a snake. Winn saw that Brent’s feet were now bone, stripped of flesh as they were on that morning years ago. Blood was dripping from his calves as he moved toward them, sprinkling the sand below.
He left me here to die! Brent said, his voice deeper and raspier.
After I saved you from the cave! Winn shouted. Marty reached over to stop Winn from speaking.
Winn saw Brent’s hands moving under his body. He extended his right arm toward Winn, shoving something in his hand just inches from Winn’s face. The coin.
You gave me this! Brent hissed at Winn. Murderer!
He thought it would help you, Marty said.
It killed me! Brent said, turning from Winn to Marty. And even after that, after I begged him not to leave me here, he did. I bled out into the dirt, under this tree. Alone. And after all that, he still ditched me. He would come out here to see me, but then he stopped. Weeks, months, years out here all by myself, and not once did he come. Well, I’ve turned the tables on him now. I come to see him.
I’m asking you to stop, Marty said. It’s cruel what you’re doing to him.
It’s cruel what he did to me! Brent cried.
If he comes out here and visits you, will you stop? Marty asked.
I’ll never stop! Brent said, a look of fury on his face. He’d only be doing it so I wouldn’t visit him, to get me to stop. No real friendship. No remorse for what he did. Only fear. Brent turned back to Winn. I see how you look at me at night, in your bedroom. You’re scared. You’re afraid. I like that. Now you know what it’s like to wonder why your best friend is screwing you over. You deserve it. You murdered me, and then you ditched me. So fuck you, Winn! I’ll never stop. I’ll never ditch you. You can move to the other side of the world and I’ll still find you!
Marty dropped out of his trance and grabbed Winn’s shoulder, shaking it. Winn slowly emerged from the River, watching Marty as he stood up.
“There’s no point in continuing that conversation,” Marty said. “Come on, let’s go.”
Winn struggled to his feet. “So we’re giving up?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Marty said, walking back to the car. “Come on. I saw what I needed to see. We’ll talk in the car.”
Chapter Fourteen
“He had the coin,” Marty said, slowly maneuvering his car through the desert and back to the dirt path that led back to the main road.
“He doesn’t,” Winn said. “I took it from him before the EMTs arrived. I have it at home.”
“And you said it doesn’t work anymore?” Marty asked.
“No, it hasn’t worked at all, ever since I took it from him.”
“You’re sure it’s the right coin? Maybe you took a different nickel?”
“No, it’s the 1950 ‘S’,” Winn replied. “I’m sure of it. I have it at home in an envelope in my dresser. And it doesn’t do anything.”
“Then I think we didn’t understand what it was capable of,” Marty said.
“What do you mean?”
“We knew it could heal, right? Healed my back. Made Brent feel better, which is why you gave it to him, remember?”
“Yeah.”
“I think if Brent was using it at the moment he died,” Marty said, “it amplified what he was feeling. His anger over being abandoned. It’s made him into one very powerful ghost. He still has the image of the coin with him – like the ghost of the coin. It’s feeding his anger, making it worse, making it last.”
“You know,” Winn said, “I was using the coin when I dropped your flash bombs in the cave. It knocked everyone out for hours. Maybe…?”
“It amplified the flash bomb, too!” Marty finished. “That would make sense. You know, I tested that batch after you told me what had happened, and none of the others knocked ghosts out. They all lasted just a second or two, like they were designed. Now it makes sense. In addition to healing, the coin amplifies certain things.”
“So it’s amplifying his anger?” Winn asked.
“Amplifying and sustaining it,” Marty said. “Ghosts aren’t known for giving up their obsessions; but they usually maintain an even keel. In your case, I think Brent will get worse and worse. I don’t think he’ll ever stop, even if you started visiting him routinely and trying to calm him down. Whatever power was in that coin, when he died, it all transferred from the coin to him. And it’s made him a very powerful entity. He doesn’t know just how powerful. I suspect he could do far worse things than what he’s done to you, if he decides to ratchet it up. And the anger in his eyes – whoa, I tell ya, he’s one pissed little kid.”
Marty reached the paved road and turned the Caddy back towards the trailer park.
“What am I gonna do?” Winn said. Marty could hear the strain and futility in Winn’s voice. He was close to giving up.
“Tell you what, I’m in the mood for a root beer float after all that walking in the desert,” Marty said. “What do you say we stop at Big Ben’s and I’ll treat us both. And I’ll tell you how we might solve this.”
Winn agreed, and M
arty drove past the trailer court and further into town until he arrived at the drive-in. He pulled into an unoccupied spot, and when the waiter rolled up on roller skates, Marty ordered two root beer floats.
“You want anything else?” Marty asked.
“A cheeseburger?” Winn asked.
“And a cheeseburger,” told the waiter. “Hold on – make it two. Two cheeseburgers. And fries.”
“Thanks, Marty,” Winn said.
“When my kids were your age, they’d get home from school and eat an entire loaf of bread, making sandwiches. And that was with dinner just a couple of hours away.”
“With football practice I’m eating more than normal,” Winn said.
“You’re playing football?” Marty asked, surprised. “What position?”
“Running back. I guess it’s been a while since I visited,” Winn said. “Sorry about that. Football practice is long, and then I got the job. So my days are long.”
“Well, I suppose that would keep you busy,” Marty said. “No wonder you haven’t visited me. Or Brent.”
“I stopped visiting Brent because it felt creepy. I would go out there and sit, and think about when we were friends. But I’d always remember the sight of him lying there, and all that blood that had soaked into the ground. It used to bother me that his blood fed that tree. Creeped me out. So I went less and less. A couple of years ago, I stopped.”
“And he noticed,” Marty said. “Which is why you’ve got this problem now.”
“You don’t think I can solve it by just starting up the visits again?” Winn asked.
“Probably not,” Marty said. “The power that was in that coin has transformed him a bit. The anger looked very real to me, and I think at some level he was enjoying tormenting you. I think he’ll keep it up, regardless. And let’s say I’m wrong, and you visit out there once a week. What, for the rest of your life? Ghosts have very long lifespans, Winn.”
“What can I do?” Winn asked.
“Well, like I said, there’s one thing I can think of,” Marty said. “Someone who used to be a friend of mine, she had a similar problem, and she was able to clear it up. I’m thinking we go talk to her, see if she can give us any advice.”
“She used to be a friend?” Winn asked.
“That’s why I wanted to be sure, before we approached her,” Marty said as the waiter rolled up with a tray. He attached it to Marty’s window and rolled off. Marty reached out to grab the burgers and the drinks, passing one of each to Winn. Marty opened his burger and inspected it – it looked greasier than he normally liked, but he didn’t mind. He took some napkins and wrapped them around the bottom of the burger to make sure it didn’t drip on him. Then he took a bite.
“Hey, this is good!” Marty said through the mouthful he was chewing. He turned to look at Winn and saw Winn place the last bite of his burger into his mouth, his cheeks bulging.
Marty swallowed. “No way. There is no way you ate that entire burger while I was unwrapping mine.”
Winn swallowed and smiled broadly, then opened his mouth to show Marty it was empty. “The whole thing!” he said. “Can we go see your friend now?”
“Whoa! Let me get a bite or two, would you?” Marty laughed. “You can’t eat like that when you’re my age, or you get heartburn.”
“So you were saying?” Winn asked. “About your friend that used to be your friend?”
“Oh yes, her,” Marty said, taking another bite and washing it down with the root beer. “After my wife died, she was all over me. She’s gifted too, and she thought we’d make a great couple. She imagined us as some kind of power duo. We had worked together on a few projects before that, but I had never thought of her in any kind of a romantic way. So when she started to make her moves on me, I resisted, and it pissed her off. I don’t know if she’ll even take my call.”
“Do you know where she lives?” Winn asked, finishing off his root beer float. “Maybe we can just go by her place, surprise her. That way she can’t say no.”
“As much as I hate the idea of that,” Marty replied, “that might be the only way it works. You may need to be ready to dodge bricks or other things she might throw at us.”
“God, what did you do? Fight?” Winn asked.
“Let’s just say it wasn’t an amicable parting,” Marty replied.
“Great,” Winn said. “I’ve got Brent pissed at me, and you’ve got this woman.”
“Ida,” Marty said. “Her name is Ida. She’s a tough cookie.”
“She live around here?” Winn asked.
“Yes,” Marty replied.
“Well?” Winn asked. “Let’s drop in.”
Marty sighed.
“You really don’t want to see this chick again, do you?” Winn asked.
“No, I don’t,” Marty said. “And if you call her a chick to her face, she’ll freak out, clam up, and kick us out, I guarantee it.”
“I won’t call her a chick,” Winn said. “I promise.”
Marty flashed his headlights, and a waiter arrived to remove the tray from his car window.
“Just promise me,” Marty said, backing up the car, “that if she starts to get feisty, you won’t egg her on.”
“I promise,” Winn said, wondering what Marty meant by feisty.
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She sat across from them, her legs pulled up onto the couch. Winn couldn’t help but notice that the lycra pants she wore fit her like a glove, each and every curve on display. He was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with Marty – Ida was a knockout. On top of that, she had been sweet and courteous as she welcomed them into her home. Marty had prepared him for the worst, but Ida seemed anything but unfriendly.
“And aren’t you handsome,” she said to Winn. “Your protégé, Marty?”
“I guess you could say that,” Marty replied.
“Marty has helped me a lot,” Winn said. “I don’t know what I would have done without him. My mother has been useless as far as teaching me anything.”
“Oh, what a thing to say about your mother,” Ida replied, her brow crinkling into a fake pout. “I’m sure if she was able to produce such a handsome young man she must know a thing or two!” She smiled at him, tilting her head down as she did.
She’s flirting with me? Winn thought. She’s at least three times my age! Maybe four!
“Ida, you remember that time…” Marty started.
“Winn, would you like something to drink?” Ida asked, interrupting Marty.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“So polite. It’s nice when a young man can be polite and handsome at the same time.”
“Ida,” Marty said, “that time you went to someone up north, do you…”
“Do you play sports, Winn?” Ida asked, interrupting Marty again.
“Um,” Winn stammered, a little put off that she was ignoring Marty. He decided to lie to her, thinking an answer in the affirmative might violate his promise to Marty to not egg her on. “No. I don’t. I’m more of a bookworm, to tell you the truth.”
“Oh, that’s a pity,” she said. “With all those muscles, I thought for sure you were an athlete.”
“Will you leave the boy alone?” Marty said. “For christ’s sake, Ida!”
“Oh, there’s no harm in admiring virility, Marty,” Ida replied. “After all, you brought him here.”
“I was hoping you could help me,” Winn said, wanting to move the ball further down the field than Marty had been able to. “A friend of mine who passed away years ago is haunting me now, and I was wondering how to stop it. Marty tells me you’ve had some experience with that.”
“Marty talked about me?” Ida said, raising her hand to her chest. “To you? Oh, I thought he’d forgotten all about me. You know I haven’t heard from him in years. We used to work together, the best of friends. We were very tight, weren’t we, Marty? So imagine my surprise when one day he just disappears from my life! Won’t return my calls, won’t answer his door. So I’m s
hocked, shocked I tell you, to hear that he’s been talking about me. I hope he didn’t tell you too much about our salacious past. Your young ears would probably be scandalized to learn of all the to-doings two old horny people can get up to.”
“I don’t think he cares to hear about any of that,” Marty said.
“Probably not,” Ida said, smiling at Winn, “not a good, moral, virtuous, upstanding youth like Winn here.”
Winn was beginning to blush, and he finally realized he was in the middle of some kind of altercation between Marty and Ida. He could tell by the way Marty was sitting that he was extremely uncomfortable and wished he wasn’t there. As Ida continued to talk, Winn turned to look at her, and was surprised to see that her nose was beginning to puff up.
“I trust you’re teaching him the correct way to handle women,” Ida said to Marty. “It’s best to romance them, pamper them, shower them with love and attention, especially if you think someday you’ll need a favor from them. Isn’t that right, Winn? Doesn’t that just make a whole lot of sense?”
Winn wanted to respond, but his eyes were locked on Ida’s nose. It was still enlarging, and he noticed that her nostrils flared as she talked, like an angry dragon.
“Winn’s case is desperate,” Marty said. “I was hoping you could tell us how you solved your problem, and we could see if it might work for Winn here.”
“Well, Winn has been nothing but polite so far,” Ida said, “so I imagine I’d be willing to help him out. It wouldn’t be very nice of me to hold your offences over his head, now would it, Marty?” She turned to Winn. “I assure you, whatever he’s said about me, it’s not true. I’m not a bitch. Did he say I was?”
Winn tried not to look at her nose, which was beginning to look like the red, swollen nose of a drunkard. “No ma’am, he never called you that.”
“What did he tell you?” she asked. “Did he say nice things about me? Did he tell you how voluptuously soft my flesh is?”
Winn turned to look at Marty, who sat stone-faced. What am I supposed to say? Winn thought. Marty said not to encourage her.
The Impossible Coin (The Downwinders Book 2) Page 14
