"Temporary Australians?"
"Yeah," Ramsey answered. "Once they're dead, they belong elsewhere."
"And It is such a shame they take innocent lives with them," Emily responded, her voice lowered as her tone saddened.
Ramsey nodded, realising that he had been talking about Debra, Tyrone's sister; she had been using a mobile phone when the spirit attacked, killing her. Oh! Tyrone! He glanced at the car's clock, seeing the time.
"I'm meant to be talking to Tyrone tonight," Ramsey exclaimed, realising he had nearly forgotten, "but I have to try catching that spirit tonight and stop him."
"Why don't you talk to the lad when we get home?" Emily suggested. "He seemed quiet this morning when you spoke with him."
Ramsey nodded, agreeing. He felt worried about Tyrone. Ramsey still felt sad at the mention of Debra, the mere thought of her summoned tears, and he knew Tyrone would be feeling it even worse. Emily read Ramsey's expression, placed a hand on his, sending a warm comforting stream of feeling through him. "Talk with him, Ramsey. Spend some time with him."
TYRONE WAS OUT WHEN Emily and Ramsey arrived home. Ramsey found a note on the kitchen bench from Tyrone, saying that he was visiting a friend's place. Ramsey's eyebrows furrowed a little when he read it; Tyrone didn't tell him of any such plans before. Perhaps it was for the best if the teenager felt more comfortable with other school friends than with him right now. The note didn't say how long he would be away though.
He showed the note to Emily, an experienced mother herself in a past life. She agreed; it wasn't like Tyrone to not say how long he would be away for but he needed some time.
Ramsey thought about it a moment, picked up his mobile phone, tapping a message into it for Tyrone. Hey, Ty. I'm sorry I missed you. Enjoy yourself. Which friend are you visiting?
Placing the phone on the bench, he turned towards the fridge, retrieving some fruit and ice to make a smoothie. Tyrone's reply beeped through the phone as Ramsey sliced the fruit. With a clean little finger, Ramsey swiped the phone and it revealed the message.
Hi Unc, with Malcolm and some others. Bye. T
Ramsey nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, and continued making the smoothie. Ramsey knew Malcolm, a good kid, and his parents. Tyrone would be fine and they'd call him if anything happened.
"Emily," he said, taking a sip from his orange and pineapple smoothie. "Looks like I won't get to talk with Tyrone tonight. How do you feel about doing a stake-out tonight?"
IT WAS THE LATE AFTERNOON when Ramsey entered the solitude of his meditation chamber, a small room in his house he had specially altered for the purpose. Although he often meditated in the backyard, facing the rising morning sun, the meditation room proved more useful in the cold wet weather. Ramsey had earlier written down everything he could remember from the vision with Jenny. Jamie's car clock indicated it was 7:08pm when the spirit was due to attack, so Ramsey started relaxing on the futon at 6:00pm.
Ever since he first met Emily, many years ago, Ramsey had devoted himself to learning astral travel. His first astral experiences occurred when he used to be asleep, or just drifting off. He would think he was walking, bouncing as though in low gravity, sometimes he would feel like he was swimming through air and pushing himself through, followed by the gut-wrenching sensation of falling through space before waking with a bump. These days, Ramsey could accomplish much smoother landings, thanks to years of practice at entering the state and leaving it.
Laying down on the soft mattress, Ramsey steadied his breathing and centred himself. He focused upon each breath, letting it come and go rhythmically, as he concentrated upon relaxing each part of his body. Before long, he felt the internal shift as his astral self released itself from the physical body. Ramsey smiled internally, feeling himself rise gently, floating upward as though levitating. He opened his eyes, feeling calm and relaxed. Using his will, he manoeuvred his astral self into a standing position and looked back at "physical Ramsey"; the physical body lay there, breathing steadily, controlling itself so that he could move freely.
He looked beside him saw Emily standing there. She appeared more physical to him now, shining slightly, but not appearing as a transparent spirit to him as she did otherwise.
"Let's move," he said, grinning. "See you at the intersection, where Debra crashed."
He visualised the scene, thought of himself there, and felt a melting sensation across himself before he appeared at the intersection. Emily appeared next to him shortly after.
"So, here we are," Emily said as they looked around.
While in an astral self, things looked different and yet the same, to Ramsey. While in a physical state, Ramsey saw the astral and spirit things as immaterial, semi-transparent, similar to a hologram; now it was the polar opposite. Astral beings and objects appeared solid, enough for him to touch and feel, while the physical universe was not immaterial although he could influence it as well.
"We're early," Emily observed, motioning to the City Hall's clock that showed 6:38pm.
"Good," Ramsey replied, looking about at the surroundings. The physical world's sounds appeared muted and, for want of a less ironic term, ghostly. Some people walked about on the streets and Ramsey studied them, seeing most of them were spirits. The spirit world never really stopped operating, the ghosts of the dead continuing the things they used to do in their living days. Thankfully most of them passed on to the "White Light" as it could get quite crowded otherwise. "It gives me a chance to look for the hooded spirit. Maybe he hangs out, waiting for people who are using their mobile phones."
"Do you remember where the vision showed the murder?" Emily asked.
Ramsey did; visions from psychometry seemed clearer while in astral form. "Over there," he pointed across the street. "The car was heading out of the city down that direction."
"Perhaps some others," Emily pointed at the solid-appearing phantoms walking by, "have seen him?"
They moved in different directions, asking different phantom people if they had seen a hooded spirit around. A few apparitions ignored them but most confirmed that they hadn't seen any since the morning. They had seen him quite a few times before, being locals.
"Oi!"
Ramsey turned to face the same labourer spirit, to whom he had spoken the previous week, approaching him.
"Are you looking for that Reaper guy?" he half-shouted.
Ramsey nodded. "Have you seen him?"
"Not lately meself, but is that him there?" the spirit pointed towards the traffic.
Ramsey turned about, seeing a hooded figure floating quickly towards an old turquoise Corolla. He whistled loudly, summoning Emily who turned and looked towards where Ramsey pointed. The hooded figure must be starting sooner, with Jamie being the second victim of the evening. He had to stop him, just the same.
Concentrating his will, Ramsey found himself flying quickly after the Corolla. He focused, trying to see the hooded assassin more clearly, gain a better visual in case he lost him. Emily caught up beside him.
"It looks like we're in time," she shouted, above the traffic noise undulating about them.
"Let's do it!" Ramsey called back. He sped up, diving through the back window and appeared in the Corolla's back-seat.
The hooded figure hadn't noticed him and, better still, the driver had not sensed him either. Emily sat beside Ramsey, staying quiet as well.
Now they were close enough to see the hooded spirit's features much better, discerning him to be a young man possibly in his early thirties; his scarred and unshaven face appeared animated and bright as he spoke to the female driver. Ramsey eyed the spirit's hands and knuckles, noting them to also hold scars as though skinned in a fight; were they hints of violence? The driver was young; her blonde hair appeared dirty although it had been brushed into order, and Ramsey noted through the rear-view mirror's reflection that tears streamed down her face.
The spirit placed a hand upon her shoulder and she reacted as though she could feel it; otherwise s
he kept her attention upon the road. "Babe," he whispered, in a loving voice, "I'm sorry for being an asshole the past few weeks. With the baby due (Emily noted the growing bump on the driver's stomach) I freaked." He paused a moment to touch the baby bump, caressing it lightly and lovingly. "I think it's going to be a girl. I don't know how I know, I just do, and I know she's going to be beautiful just like her Mum."
As the spirit sniffed, Emily nudged Ramsey who looked back at her. Nodding, they decided to leave the scene and stopped still, letting the car carry the hooded figure and its driver away while they stood in the middle of the street. They ignored the other cars and trucks passing through them as they walked to the road's edge.
"There's no way that gorgeous man could be the murderer," she told Ramsey with certainty. A tear ran down her face. "Did you hear the way he spoke with her? It's the way I talked to my son after I died. That poor man only wanted to have last words with his wife."
Ramsey felt disheartened by the miss. He was hoping to have been able to catch the spirit responsible for the killings before it came to the incident in his vision. "Look around for pipes, Emily," he responded, focused on finding the spirit first. "The killer used a pipe, roughly about a foot in diameter."
"Oh, you can be like a pit-bull terrier," she told him, "only worse."
"What?" Ramsey responded, slightly distracted.
"Only a pit-bull lets go," Emily grumbled. She saw something and pointed upwards. "What about a flagpole?"
Ramsey tracked her pointing finger, looking upwards to the top of a nearby government building with its Australian flag still flapping in the darkness. He recalled the vision, nodding. "That could be it."
He started floating up towards the top of the building when he noticed a dark shape hurtle past, in the corner of his eye. Stopping in mid-flight, he twisted and manoeuvred himself back in pursuit. "There he is, Emily!" He looked ahead of the hooded figure, saw the target; it was a single driver, a mobile phone held to his head while he talked.
He didn't stop to think; Ramsey willed himself inside the car's back-seat, expecting the assassin to be there. Emily appeared at the car's side, level with the back doors. Ramsey acted first, lashing his astral palm at the driver's arm. The driver cried out in pained shock, dropping the phone. The spirit assassin screamed in anger, having been poised to strike from the front passenger's seat. He turned to face Ramsey, eyes glowing in rage. Ramsey's fist rammed through the car seat, hitting the assassin in the mouth. Although the spirit was as immaterial as himself, Ramsey felt its face seem to melt around his own hand. It grabbed his wrist and elbow, locking the joint and floating up out of the car with him; its foot lashed out, kicking him in the stomach.
Ramsey groaned; the blow hurt, as much as a physical punch would hurt his physical body. Reversing the lock, he twisted and delivered a flurry of punches to the spirit's face. Dazed, it fled backwards in the air, not removing its gaze from Ramsey. "Who are you?"
"You killed my daughter!" Ramsey shouted back.
The spirit assassin faltered slightly, appearing surprised. "We all have our losses," it responded, rocketing towards Ramsey to hit him full force in the face.
Ramsey spun back, trying to reduce the impact in an attempt to not be sent back to his physical body, which would end the fight prematurely. Lifting his hands, he blocked more astral punches from the spirit assassin before twisting to the side, catching his astral opponent's arm and throwing him to the ground. Ramsey knew the ground could not physically stop the ghost. The fighting was purely a battle of the minds and beliefs. If his opponent believed the ground would hurt him, it would.
The heavy impact reached Ramsey's ears, followed by the spirit's winded guard. Ramsey landed on top of the spirit, pinning it to the ground as he delivered a series of fast heavy punches to his opponent's face. Pain wracked his wrist as the spirit blocked a blow, catching him and wrestling him to the ground. The spirit twisted on top and delivered a palm strike to his jaw. He felt that!
Another blow landed to his face, followed by another. A car drove straight through their immaterial bodies, disorienting both of them but separating them as well. The spirit rose in the air, facing Ramsey who was still on the ground and regaining his thoughts. His spirit opponent seemed to be particularly well-practised in astral combat.
"When did you train with Spirit Force?" Ramsey called to it, but he was answered with fist-sized pieces of bitumen spraying him from the edge of the road. The bitumen passed harmlessly through him but smashed nearby store windows, setting off ringing alarms that echoed through the street-lit night.
Ramsey floated upward towards the spirit but it fled towards a nearby roof. More pieces of stone hailed towards him. Catching them, he psychically rearranged them into a large cannonball-sized rock. Looking upward, preparing to send the large missile back, he stopped in surprise.
"Shit."
He hadn't noticed the spirit used Ramsey's distraction to its own advantage.
Ramsey was too slow.
The first flagpole flew through him, its flag flapping wildly in its flight.
Glass shattered; something crunched. Another crunch followed. Then another as the third flagpole connected with the ground.
A horn blared, followed by a crumpling impact.
Ramsey turned, feeling the sick twisting knot in his psyche, as he realised he was late; too late.
Shock filled his astral self as he beheld the impaled car's windscreen, the flag flapping in the breeze and the end of the pole stuck firmly through a man's head and car seat. The driver's hand was at his head, dropping to its side, and a mobile phone fell from his limp fingers. Mrs Taylor, her dress hitched up on her lap, exposing her moist bare privates, and her hand still in the dead man's pants, screamed loudly. The car had collided with another parked car, its bonnet popped open with steam spraying into the air.
Another sound reached his ear, something familiar. Something pulled at his astral self and he felt himself losing control.
"No!" he shouted in frustration, trying to re-centre. "Not -"
Chapter 13
Incredible! Sally Green could not believe her luck, being on the scene of three separate incidents in the one day.
It seemed an uneventful night at first, having taken the rest of the day off after the near miss on the Motorway that morning. She had managed to record the footage after the car nearly collided with her, but she knew the producers would edit the shots of the dead driver. Drew seemed calm and collected enough at the time, filming footage through his news-camera, but Sally could see his complexion paling from the shock. Even she felt shaky and lost at first, but Drew was no good for driving home. The studio bosses had sent them both home after letting them rest at work first and calling a local doctor to check on them.
However, Sally was on her way to dinner at Alphonso's Italian Restaurant for her goddaughter's engagement party when she heard the sound of glass smashing, followed by a security alarm ringing from a shop across the street. She focused her eyes, seeing the travel agent's store window in disarray but could see no one else around. Did someone throw rocks at it while passing by in their car?
Her heart jumped; the sound of metal grating and stone breaking assaulted her ears; she looked upwards towards the sound. Unfamiliar flapping sounds penetrated her, then she jumped back in time as three flagpoles crashed into the street; two of them ricocheting from the road to slide along the bitumen; a third speared into the windshield of a passing car, exploding glass. Other cars skidded to avoid the carnage, a woman screamed from inside the impaled car, and people came running from the nearby Alphonso's restaurant.
Sally instinctively reached for her mobile phone and her conscience stopped her from filming the horrific scene. Dialling 000, she barked her words at the dispatch officer. "Police, ambulance AND fire brigade! East and Thorn Streets. Traffic accident." Sally cursed to herself as the operator asked her more details. Was it this person's first frigging day on the job or something? Her mind swung between
the scene unfolding before her, the need for help, and the desire to report this for work. She noticed others also calling with their phones, calling for emergency services as well; a few other people were videoing with their phones. Cursing again, she hung up on the phone. Let them find her by GPS, if they must, she thought, and started her iPhone's video camera to capture the events.
She watched the screen, adjusting its brightness and clarity for the video, and moved the camera over the crumpled bonnet, the smashed windscreen, and the screaming Mrs Taylor who tried hiding her face from view when someone attempted to help her. It looked like Mrs Taylor's hand was still stuck in the driver's pants, his face and head squashed flat by the flagpole and the lump of concrete on its end. A dark hooded figure was in the car with the driver. Sally looked up, hoping to see who it could be, and almost dropped the phone; no one was there. She looked at the screen again. The figure was on the screen, captured by camera. Excitement gripped her, and Sally moved forward for more footage.
RAMSEY AWOKE WITH A jolt, his heart pounding hard, and breathing hard. What was that loud thumping? It wasn't his heart.
"Bloody hell!" he hissed with disappointment. He tried going back into astral mode but his quickened pulse refused to slow, and the thumping sound resumed, only louder.
His senses finally returned to normality. Trudging out into the carpeted hallway, he stopped to listen to the knocking. It seemed to be coming from the front door.
Ramsey felt wobbly in the legs as he walked towards the front door. Astral travelling for an hour could do that to someone and he had no idea why. At last, he reached the front door, opened it, and found Detective Sergeant Cogan standing there.
"What?" was all he could manage.
Cogan stood there, a little taken aback, gawking at Ramsey's bare upper torso. She realised her manners, picked up her jaw and answered. "I tried calling you but your mobile is off."
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