Wayward Souls: The Sequel to Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller)

by J. R. Tate

  “Dad, you okay?” Rusty asks from the living room.

  “I’m good. I didn’t even know rain was in the forecast.”

  “Neither did the weather guys,” he replies, motioning toward the TV. “Said it was an isolated storm that popped up out of nowhere.”

  I stare at the Doppler on the screen. It’s like the storm is just sitting right over us. The rest of the area is blue skies and clear, and here we are, all because I messed with little Lenora’s grave. No, that can’t be right. The weather around here is always random.

  “Hey Russ, I think I’m headed to bed.”

  “You sure? It’s not even nine yet.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Work took a lot outta me, and I have a tour tomorrow too.” I lie. While I am exhausted, going to bed this early is unheard of. I just need some time alone.

  I brush my teeth and strip down to my boxers. The cool sheets are inviting, and I snuggle up against one of Rose’s throw pillows that I used to hate so much. Maybe going to bed this early is the best decision I’ve made today. The mattress is soft, and my body sinks into it. My eyelids are heavy and I drift, but I jolt awake, almost falling to the floor. I catch myself on the edge of the bed and look around the room. It’s pitch black except for the lightning flashing through the curtains, and my alarm clock is off. I realize that the electricity is out, and I scoot out of bed and walk to the window. The closest neighbors aren’t close enough to see if they’re having the same issue, but I’m sure they are. Maybe I should call the electric company and see.

  Turning back to the bed, I stop dead in my tracks when I see Sammy standing in the corner, his dark eyes set on me. There’s no mistaking that it’s him – it’s a clear visual of him looking just like he did when we were kids. The room goes dark, and out of habit I reach for the lamp, but of course it doesn’t turn on. Lightning brightens the room up for a split second, and he continues to stare at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper, feeling like a fool.

  “Why did you let me die?” He yells at the top of his lungs, and just as he does, thunder crackles so loud that I feel the vibrations against the windowpane.

  “I didn’t, Sammy. I promise, I didn’t let you die.” I’m trying to reason with a figment of my imagination. I’m definitely certifiable.

  The room lightens again, but this time he’s gone, and a small girl is standing right where he was, in an older dress, a bonnet on her head. She doesn’t even realize I’m there – she’s busy holding a rag doll and combing her fingers through it’s yarn hair. I take a step forward, urging my body to move. What am I doing? What am I seeing?

  “Who are you?” My voice cracks, and I can see her through the darkness. She still doesn’t look at me, but as I get closer, with one more flash from the weather, she’s right in my face, her nose touching mine, her eyes as dark as Sammy’s just were. I fall back and hit the floor with a thud. She doesn’t say anything, and when I scoot back toward the window, she’s gone.

  I lean back against the wall and keep my eyes on the corner. I’m scared what might be there when another bolt of lightning strikes. This has to be a dream. I was so tired when I lay down that there’s no telling what my head is coming up with. Resting my head against the wall, I close my eyes, and then I reach up to my table, trying to turn the lamp on again, but it still doesn’t work. I grab for my bed and pull myself up into it, glad that I haven’t seen either Sammy or the young girl for the past few minutes.

  I let out a sigh and roll over on my side, letting out a yell when I see Rose beside me, though she doesn’t look like my beautiful wife that I remember. There’s a gash in her forehead and dark black rings around her eyes. Her skin is white and the smell – what in the hell?

  “Nathan…” Her voice sounds like it hisses, and she reaches out. “Make love to me, Nathan.”

  I move away, and this time I do fall off the bed, crashing to the linoleum below. The sheets are wrapped around my ankles, and I fight to get untangled from the mess of bedclothes. She peaks over the mattress, down to me from above, smiling.

  “What’s the matter, Nathan? Still mad about me getting you committed? I apologized for that. I did it because I love you.”

  “Go away! You’re not real!”

  She laughs and it ricochets off the wall. “I’m not?”

  “No, you’re not! I’m dreaming!” Am I dreaming? Why do I feel I have to convince myself of it?

  “Come back up here and I’ll prove to you that I’m real, that I’m here, and that you’re not dreaming, Nathan. Make love to me like you used to. I want to feel you.”

  I scoot back even farther toward the closet. I should just leave the damn room. She’d be gone if I just left for a while. How would I explain it to Rusty? Hey kid, just coming downstairs until your mother decides to leave. I miss her, but not in this form. She looks evil, like her intention is to do harm.

  “You’re going to end up right back in that mental hospital, hon.” She beckons toward me, her hand covered in dirt. “If I’m not real, how do you explain what’s about to happen?”

  “What’s about to happen?” I ask, certain that I don’t want to know.

  “Why did you let me die?” she yells, and just as she does, my bedroom window blasts open and the rain comes pouring inside. I run toward it, attempting to get it closed before it ruins everything in my room. She is laughing behind me, and the force of the wind is so strong that I can’t even get a good grasp to get it shut.

  The wind dies down almost instantly, and I am able to push it closed. Everything on my nightstand is drenched, and when I look over my shoulder, the image of Rose is fading. Normally I’d want her to stick around – I have so many questions and so many things I want her to know, but right now, I’m glad to see her go.

  I wipe the sweat from my brow and try to catch my breath. I look around the room, expecting her to jump out at me or be right in my face like the little girl, but she doesn’t do any of that. “Don’t come back here. You’re not welcome here.” Again, I feel like a jackass for talking to an empty room.

  I wake up a little after five AM. My alarm is set for six, and I debate on just getting up. I turn my alarm clock to face me – funny how it’s not blinking like it usually does when we lose power. It takes me a moment to organize my thoughts, but everything about what happened hits me hard. Sammy, the girl, and most of all, Rose. Why did both she and Sammy ask why I let them die? I had nothing to do with Rose, unless she’s thinking we didn’t do all we could on scene.

  I bury my face in my pillow. Why in the hell am I analyzing it all? It’s clear it was all a dream. My alarm clock wouldn’t be on the right time if not. Flicking the lamp on, I pull the covers back. Rose was filthy and in my bed. If it were real, she would’ve left dirt everywhere. I also check the window. No signs of water damage on anything, and with the amount of rain that came in, there would have been some evidence that it flew open in the middle of the storm.

  I can’t help but laugh out loud. My dreams have always been vivid. And now they’re to the point where I can’t tell the difference in them and reality. I lie back in the bed and stare up at the ceiling fan as it swirls above me. Maybe I need to talk to my therapist about all of this. Maybe she’ll have some suggestions on what I can do to get my mind to calm down. It’s easy to reason with why they showed up in my dream – Rusty mentioned seeing something and I thought about Sammy. I cleaned up a little girl’s grave on the land. And of course, Rose is always on my mind. All stuff I thought about not long before dozing.

  With what has happened to me in the past, I still feel like my analysis of it is far off base. I want it to all be accurate, but I’m no longer a skeptic about the afterlife. I can only deny it for so long. If they are coming back, I’ll know for sure soon enough. Maybe my denial is strong enough to shut off the part of my brain that allows me to see the ghosts. Maybe it’ll close it all up and they’ll go find someone more receptive to their needs. Or maybe I’m just cursed.

  I
get ready for work, and the entire day is uneventful, aside from everyone raving about my save yesterday. A medic told us that the kid will be fine and that he will be placed in a foster home. Sure, physically he’ll be fine, but going into the system is another strike against the child. Then again, could he have had a worse childhood than me? Maybe he’ll find a loving couple that won’t blame him for every bad thing that happens to them.

  After my tour, I drive to my therapist’s office. I usually don’t see her more than once a week, but with recent events that transpired at the house, for the first time since going to her, I feel like I actually need to talk to her. I’m glad she agreed to speak to me on such short notice, even if it means an appointment after regular business hours.

  Sending Rusty a quick text to let him know I’ll be home late, I knock on the locked door and she greets me immediately.

  “Nathan, I was surprised to get your phone call. Everything okay?”

  She holds the door open for me and we go in. I follow her up to her office, almost backing out of the impromptu meeting. Her smile relaxes me. She’s not judging me. This is what she does. I just feel like less of a man coming here. Do tough guys spill their heart and soul like this or am I doomed?

  “I think I’m losing it, Doc.” I sit across from her, and this time, she doesn’t grab her notepad like she usually does.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Last night I had these crazy ass dreams that felt so real.” I rub my temples as a sharp headache drives right through my skull.

  “What kind of dreams? Do you remember the details of them?”

  I clasp my hands together and try to organize what I’m trying to say. They all make sense in my head, but I can’t get them together to explain. Rose stands out the most, and why did she seem so evil?

  “They’re just dreams – I have them all the time. I just don’t understand why they’re coming on worse right now.”

  “Can you remember who was in them at least?” She sits forward, crossing her legs.

  “Rose and Sammy I know for sure. And a little girl. No clue who she is, but she’s dressed in clothes from way back when. We found that grave on the land, so maybe it’s me just thinking about the girl she would’ve been, had she not died.”

  “But Rose and Sammy stick out the most? Your little brother?” She asks, confirming she knows. I’ve only talked about him a little with her, so I’m shocked she remembers.

  “Yeah, my little brother. They both asked me why I let them die.”

  “Isn’t that what the ghosts before said to you?”

  I nod. “Yeah.” I rehash what I can remember, from the window flying open, to Rose’s soiled body. And how when I woke up, things were normal. “It’s gotta be a dream, right?”

  Dr. Carson doesn’t say anything at first, as if she’s digesting everything I’ve let out. Shifting in the chair, I try to read her, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  “It sounds like a dream, but don’t forget that those in the afterlife have the power to use your dreams as a way to communicate. While I don’t want to jump to conclusions, there is a chance that Sammy and Rose are using it to make contact with you. Even this little girl you said showed up.”

  It’s definitely not what I want to hear. I want her to say that it’s just my vivid imagination and that I have nothing to worry about.

  “I don’t understand, Doc. The ghosts before said they wouldn’t be back.” My voice shakes and I stand up, pacing in front of the window. I can’t sit still. A part of me hopes this is a dream as well.

  “That’s right, Nathan. The ghosts before said that. Seems these are new ones.”

  I rake my hand through my hair and close my eyes. “This was just a dream. They aren’t back.”

  Dr. Carson stands up and takes a step toward me, reaching her hand out. I don’t return the favor, jerking away from her. I don’t need comfort from her. I don’t need anything except for a restful night’s sleep and for my life to be normal.

  “I’m not sure why you’re getting so angry, Nathan. This isn’t something new. Now you know what to do. You know how to get them to pass on to the other side. To help with their unfinished business. Why not just listen to them, allow them to speak while you’re sleeping. It sounds like it’s their chosen communication. Rather than fight it, just let it happen.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  I stare at her for a second, like she should understand my crazy and jumbled up head. “Because last time I ended up in a damn mental hospital. Because I almost lost my job! Don’t you get it? If I can’t be a firefighter anymore, my life is over!”

  “All of that happened before you knew the solution. Now you know it. You helped the ghosts with their unfinished business. That’s why they’re here. They know you have this portal in your brain and they’re using you as a way to get to the other side.”

  “What if I can’t help them this time? What if what they’re wanting goes beyond my ability?”

  “There’s too many what if’s in that question, Nathan. You won’t know until you communicate with them.”

  I walk toward the door. This is not going how I expected it to go. “No. I can’t risk it all again. I’ve lost too much. Rusty and my job are the only two things I have left. If they come back, I’m going to tell them to leave. They need to find some other head case to do their dirty work.” I grip the doorknob. Why did I even waste my time?

  “Nathan, please think about all of this. You can’t ignore it.”

  Turning, I look Dr. Carson straight in the eye. “It was a mistake coming here.” Opening the door, I slam it behind me as I hurry down the stairs to my truck. Just because she’s a psychologist doesn’t mean she knows it all. I don’t have to believe everything she says because she has multiple diplomas displayed on her wall.

  I sit in my truck, watching as the rain pours down in sheets. Another rainy evening. Maybe if I just avoid my bedroom, the dreams won’t come back. Maybe if I just don’t sleep – I used to be an insomniac. I used to wish it’d go away. Now I want it back.

  It definitely was a mistake coming to talk to Dr. Carson. All of that will go in my file, and now that she sees my life spiraling out of control again, she’ll probably contact my Chief. But it’s all supposed to be confidential, unless she feels I’m going to put my team in danger. My next scheduled appointment with her is in a few days. I can play things off as being in control. I can feed her a handful of lies to appease her and the department if it means staying on the truck. If I can just stop dreaming, everything will fade.

  Merging out onto the street, I search for the nearest bar. Not the best decision if I want to stay awake, but a few drinks won’t hurt. They’ll help take the sting off of the reality of my situation.

  ***

  Rusty

  “What time is your dad supposed to be home?”

  I nuzzle Britney’s neck as we watch some random movie. It feels like I haven’t seen her all summer, and we both finally have time to hang out. I glance at my watch – it’s almost seven, and the mention of my dad makes me worry about where he is. He texted me around five, and since then, no word from him. He didn’t tell me why he was going to be late – maybe he decided to pick up a few more hours.

  “No idea. Why? You don’t want to be here when he gets home?”

  “No, it’s not that. I just feel like he doesn’t like me.”

  I peck her cheek and run my hand down her long, blonde hair, smooth under my fingertips. “It’s not that, Brit. I wouldn’t read too much into it. He’s going through a lot right now.” She knows about my mom passing away, but no other details, and I’m sure if I tell her about it all, she’d run off laughing at us. Some things were best left unsaid.

  “So are you, Rusty.”

  “Yeah. Let’s talk about something else, huh?” Leaning in, I kiss her as my hand trails down her side, skimming her breast. We’ve only been dating a few months and I’ve tried to take my time,
but it gets harder every time I’m with her.

  Pulling away, she giggles. “You think you’re gonna get lucky tonight?”

  “Why not?” I move toward her again, but she deflects my kiss.

  “Think again! Besides, this is the best part of the movie.”

  Pointing at the TV, she reaches for the bowl of popcorn, extinguishing any chance I have at some action. Why do I even bother? I adjust the blanket around us and try to focus on the show, but my attention is elsewhere. Unwilling to break complete contact, I nibble on her ear.

  Something in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and it’s down the hallway like the day before. Great, here we go – is this seriously going to happen when I have a guest in the house? I try to hide it, but Britney’s gaze follows mine, her eyes wide.

  “Did you see something?” she asks.

  “No, why? Did you?” She can’t know about this.

  “No, but you jumped and looked that way.”

  “It’s nothing, Britney. This old house makes a lot of noise. I’m just getting used to the new place.”

  I go in for another kiss, but the front door squeaks open and we pull away as my dad enters, kicking his shoes off at the door. He looks up, seeing us on the couch, and I’ve never seen him so tired. His hair is damp from the rain, and his posture is slumped.

  “Hey Dad.”

  “Russ. Britney.” He nods toward us, but still doesn’t move.

  “I was just leaving, Mr. Gallagher.” Britney kicks the blanket off and searches for her shoes, slipping them on quickly. Why is she in such a hurry? She must really be scared of my dad.

  He doesn’t say anything to her, and it pisses me off. How can he be so rude to her? Or is he that out of it? I follow Britney to the door, pushing past him, kissing her on the porch. The rain has faded to a small mist, and she hurries to her car, trudging through the puddles. Waving, I watch as she backs up into the drive, and disappears around a curve. Hurrying back inside, my father’s voice echoes in my head. The comment he made last night about fighting so much, but it doesn’t help. I’m pissed.