by Marty Shaw
Ashley smiled. She wasn’t exactly a fan of risking her life, but it would be worth it if the footage was good.
SIX
Ashley ran the video back again, staring intently at the laptop, sitting cross-legged in the center of one of the twin beds in their hotel room. Part of her was thrilled beyond belief. Derek was right. The other ghost-hunters out there would sell their souls for footage like this. No way would they even come close to competing with this. The other part—which some might call the rational part—was terrified beyond belief. Ecstatic happiness was warring with unadulterated fear inside her, making her numb to just about everything else. She wanted to go back and get more video. She also wanted to hop in her hearse and drive far, far away from that school.
She played the video again, her eyes refusing to blink as she watched the scene unfold before her. From the window Derek had been hanging from, she saw herself approach the pool, slowly looking around, the little light from her phone illuminating the swim gym one section at a time.
She hadn’t noticed when she was actually in there, but from Derek’s higher vantage point, she saw that the pool had started bubbling and glowing as soon as she entered the gym. It had just been too gradual for her to notice.
The bubbling grew more intense as she approached the pool. Ashley could feel goosebumps raise all over her skin in anticipation of what was coming. She knew, but she still couldn’t believe it.
The column of water rose into the air, just like Ashley remembered. She turned and ran. And then something—some thing—came out of the water. It looked like a person at first; a girl with blonde hair wearing a black and gold swimsuit. Except she was swimming in the air; actually kicking her legs and moving her arms as if she was propelling herself through water, and every time an arm would swing forward, she’d reach for Ashley with pale, bloated fingers. She understood now why Derek had warned her not to look back, because if she had seen how close that thing was, she would have probably froze.
“It’s incredible,” she said, resisting the urge to watch the video again.
Derek nodded. “It’s awesome. I’ll get it uploaded before the sun comes up.” He grinned. “This video is going to break YouTube.”
Ashley chuckled. “We don’t want to break it. We just want to rule it.” She glanced at Derek. “And we need to go back.”
“Go back where?” His eyes widened as understanding dawned. “That pool? No way.”
“Derek,” Ashley said, “we have to go back. That girl is killing people.”
“Thing,” Derek said. “It’s not a girl. It’s a thing... and I’m sorry for the people at the school but better them than us.”
Ashley sighed. “Remember what you were doing when I found you?”
Derek nodded. “Filming porn.”
“And remember how you said you wanted to do more with your camera? How you wanted to do something real and good that didn’t require hiding behind a fake name? This is it. We can stop that thing. We can save lives.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “I said most of that stuff because I could tell you were into it and I was trying to get into your pants.”
Ashley reached over and patted his knee. “I know, but when you realized that wasn’t going to happen, you stayed anyway, and that means you had to mean some of it. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
Derek shrugged. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change the fact that we are in the ghost hunting business; not the ghost busting business. We don’t have no idea about how to handle that thing.”
Ashley stared at a folder on her desktop. The one labeled ‘the real deal.’ It contained articles and even a couple of grainy videos. She had been intrigued with the subject of that folder for some time now, always wanting to reach out and find out more, but never following through with it. Now might be the time to change that. She looked over at Derek. “No idea?” She grinned. “I think I might have an idea or two.”
SEVEN
Lochlan sat at the little table in the back corner of the bar, cloaked in shadows, which he thought to be very fitting and appropriate. He stared at the glass of Bushmills Red Bush Irish Whiskey in his hand, then glanced at the half-empty bottle near him. He knew he should quit; simply push the glass to the side, stand up, and walk out. After all, he had work to do tonight.
That, he decided, was enough of a reason to not quit. He picked up the glass and downed the contents with one swallow.
“Lochlan O’Connor?”
“Not interested,” he said, without even looking to see who was speaking to him. If she knew his name, he already knew what she wanted. It was what everybody always wanted.
A woman sat down, uninvited, across from him. She had fair skin that had just enough tan to avoid being called pale, a splash of freckles across her cheeks and neck, emerald green eyes that burned with the kind of passion that scared him, and long, wavy red hair. He glanced back at the bottle. Red Bush. Looked back at the woman, at her red hair. Thought of an old joke about carpets and drapes matching and laughed. The woman frowned, clearly not appreciating his sense of humor, which simply made him laugh more. She leaned forward, the dim lighting reflecting off the silver pentagram necklace resting against her Dawn of the Dead t-shirt.
“You are Lochlan O’Connor, aren’t you?” she asked, a hint of irritation in her voice.
“Who wants to know?”
She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes dropping to take in the half-empty bottle and the empty glass he still clutched in his hand. He could see in her eyes that she was wondering if she had made a mistake coming here. With any luck, she would decide she had.
She glanced back up into his eyes. “Mr. O’Connor, my name is Ashley Andrews, and I need your help with a ghost problem.”
Lochlan shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. Of course. When had luck ever been on his side? He looked at her, his smile growing bigger. “Well, Ms. Andrews, tonight is your lucky night because I’m feeling generous.” He leaned closer. “I get the feeling that you’re looking for a way to deal with ghosts. Do you want to know the secret to dealing with ghosts?”
Ashley smiled. “Please call me Ashley. . . and yes, I’d love to know the secret.”
He crooked his finger, beckoning her closer, glancing around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. She leaned further over the table, rising slightly from her chair, until they were mere inches from each other.
“Avoid places that are haunted, Ashley,” he whispered.
She sat back suddenly, staring at him as if he had lost his mind. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “It really is that simple,” he said. “If you don’t like sharks, you stay out of the ocean, and if you don’t like ghosts, you avoid haunted places.” He glanced at the watch on his left wrist and stood. “Treasure that knowledge I just shared,” he said, tossing some money on the table. “It could save your life one of these days.” He headed for the door, praying she’d go back to wherever she came from.
EIGHT
Ashley sat at the table, stunned, not sure what just happened. If she hadn’t spent all her free time basically obsessing over the man, she might have thought she had the wrong guy. But she knew better. She had taken this little road trip also knowing that getting him to help wouldn’t be easy. She watched him walk across the bar and out the front door without ever looking back. That was a bad sign. No curiosity. No intrigue. That meant he was used to being accosted by strangers asking for help. He was also used to blowing them off.
She got up and rushed to the door, forcing herself to wait a few seconds before pulling it open. She wanted to appear determined; not desperate. Her research had revealed that he didn’t have a car, preferring to walk, use buses and taxis, and occasionally do some hitchhiking. That last part seemed crazy to her. It was one thing to use Uber but it was something completely different to stick your thumb out and hope some psycho didn’t pick you up. But then Lochlan led the kind of life that probably made a psycho killer behind the
wheel seem kind of tame.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked outside, scanning the parking lot and road for him. She spotted him walking across the street, apparently headed to the fleabag-looking motel across from the bar. She hurried to catch up, not wanting to lose sight of him. It would suck if he was staying in a room on the other side of the building. He’d be tucked inside before she made it over there. She wasn’t beyond knocking on every door or bribing the guy behind the desk until she found him, but she’d prefer to not resort to those tactics if she didn’t have to. She smiled to herself as he disappeared inside one of the rooms facing the bar, her shoes crunching over gravel and dirt as she made her way across the parking lot.
“He didn’t seem interested,” a voice called out behind her.
Ashley turned to see two guys standing just outside the door to the bar. One was tall and heavyset, his t-shirt stretched tight across his belly. The other was shorter, and so thin he almost looked malnourished. “I’m sorry,” Ashley said. “What?”
The heavyset guy with the beer belly nodded towards the motel. “Saw you talking with him inside. Saw him take off like his dick was on fire.” He shrugged. “Didn’t seem interested.” He grinned, starting toward her. “We’re interested, though.”
The skinny friend nodded, right on the heels of Beer Belly. “Yeah, we’re very interested.”
Ashley laughed, continuing to walk towards the road. “Oh. It’s not what you think. I was trying to hire him.”
Beer Belly chuckled. “Oh you don’t have to pay for it, sweet thing. We can show you a good time for free.”
Ashley quickened her pace, noticing the two men were walking faster, too. She forced a laugh. “It wasn’t anything like that. He’s a . . . doctor.” She nodded, pleased with her idea. “Yeah, he’s a doctor. I think I have a STD.”
Beer Belly and his skinny friend stopped for a second, looking at each other. Beer Belly shrugged, and then they were after her.
Ashley ran across the street, her gaze locked onto the door Lochlan had disappeared through. She could hear the two men gaining on her; even Beer Belly was apparently able to move fast when he wanted to. She glanced over her shoulder. They were almost on top of her, with the skinny friend in the lead.
Him I can handle, she thought, stopping and spinning around on the ball of her foot. She lashed out with her other leg, catching Skinny in what little bit of gut he had. Those self-defense classes she had taken years ago finally paid off. Skinny hit the ground, gasping for breath, his hands clutching his stomach.
Beer Belly glanced at his downed friend as he walked past him. She exhaled sharply as she stepped forward, just like she’d been trained to do. Her right arm shot forward, her fist catching Beer Belly in his ample gut. He looked at her and laughed.
Crap! She turned to run but Beer Belly lunged forward and grabbed her, his meaty arms wrapping around her in a big bear hug that squeezed the air from her lungs as he pulled her back against him.
Ashley kicked her legs back, kicking Beer Belly’s legs. He laughed in her ear, grinding his crotch against her butt. “Go ahead and let it out, darlin’. I like ‘em feisty.”
Feisty this, asshole. Ashley snapped her head back and heard a satisfying crunch. Beer Belly’s grip loosened just enough for her to duck below his arms. She looked up just in time to see a lamp swing through the air and smash against the side of Beer Belly’s face.
Lochlan dropped the shattered base of the lamp to the ground, looking down at her. “Run,” he said.
She didn’t need to be told twice, sprinting towards the door he had left open. She ran into the room and slammed the door behind her, her heart hammering inside her chest. “Not that way,” she heard him shout.
Ashley pulled the curtain back and looked outside the window. Beer Belly had shaken off the shock and was moving towards Lochlan, murder in his eyes. She looked around hurriedly for something—anything—that could be used as a weapon. The only thing that looked halfway usable was an ironing board leaning against the wall in the closet.
Better than nothing. She reached for it, her hand hesitating as the lights flickered. She heard something that sounded vaguely like a train in the distance. That’s impossible, she thought. There aren’t any train tracks around here. The lights flickered again, the sound growing louder. The floor beneath her feet began to tremble.
NINE
Damn it. Lochlan knew he shouldn’t have looked out his window. He knew the girl would be out there looking for him, trying to track him down like a redheaded bloodhound. He hadn’t expected to see her being chased down by two guys who couldn’t take no for an answer, though. Part of him had argued to just close the curtain and let the law of the jungle run its natural course, but it was an idle thought at best. He had done a lot of low things in his life, had a lot of reasons to hate himself, but he wasn’t the type of man to stand idly by and let a woman be raped.
So now here he was, standing outside his motel room, watching a guy at least twice his size glare down at him as if he were a gnat, blood pouring from his nose, courtesy of the redhead’s reverse headbutt.
Lochlan smiled. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of buying you a pint or two and forgetting all about this.”
The big man made a fist and pulled his arm back, looking very intent on literally knocking Lochlan’s head off. Just as the man started to swing, Lochlan stepped towards him and punched him in the throat.
Eyes widening, the man staggered back, gasping for air, any thought of punching Lochlan forgotten.
Lochlan glanced at his watch. He really didn’t have time for this, and now the girl was in his motel room. He shook his head, frowning. The night couldn’t get much worse.
“You’re dead,” the big man coughed out, his voice barely above a raspy whisper.
Lochlan couldn’t believe it. The big man’s face was as red as an apple from the apparent difficulty of breathing through a swelling windpipe and he was still determined to fight. His skinny friend had gotten back on his feet and joined him.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee together again, Lochlan thought bitterly. He glanced at his watch again. Time’s up. “Go home,” he said. “Both of you.”
The two men looked at Lochlan with nothing but evil intentions in their eyes. They started towards him. He held his ground as a low rumble filled the air. The two men kept coming, too focused on him to realize what was happening at first. Slowly, the rumble grew louder, the ground beginning to shake.
The two men looked around, confusion on their faces. “What the hell,” the big guy muttered.
“You really don’t want to be here for this,” Lochlan said, “so I suggest you leave. Now.” He moved back towards his room, not turning his back on the two men. “Last chance,” he warned, and turned the knob. The door swung open and the rumbling became a roar, the ground shaking so much that the three men had to fight to stay upright.
Lights flickered in the motel room and a train whistle could be heard, its shrill sound piercing the night. A lamp on a small table inside the room fell over as pictures fell off the wall. The train whistle sounded again, louder now, closer. The large man and his small friend, deciding they’d had enough, turned and ran back towards the bar.
About bloody time, Lochlan thought, entering the motel room and slamming the door shut behind him. He rushed to a battered leather duffel bag laying on his bed. The girl crouched in the corner between the bed and the front wall, her hands over her ears. Plaster fell from the ceiling, creating a smoky haze in the room.
“What’s happening?” the girl shouted, but he had to read her lips because the words were lost to the roaring in the air.
Lochlan ignored her, digging through the bag for what he needed. It was almost time, and if he wasn’t ready tonight, he’d have to wait another week to try again. He had zero interest in hanging around this town for another week. He pulled some old newspaper clippings out of the duffel bag, clutching them tightly as the floor bucked like a liv
ing animal beneath his feet.
Holding onto the edge of the bed for balance, the girl slowly made her way to him. “What’s happening?” she yelled, struggling to be heard over the roaring sound that filled the room.
“Train,” Lochlan yelled back.
“What?”
Lochlan almost laughed at the confusion on her face. It was understandable since there were no train tracks around. “A train ran through here back in the forties,” Lochlan shouted. “Now be quiet. I have work to do.”
She arched an eyebrow, apparently not thrilled with being told what to do, but Lochlan didn’t have time for delicate feelings right now. He pulled a bag of rune stones from his pocket and then pulled a bottle of holy water out of his duffel bag with the same hand, the newspapers clippings snapping and fluttering in his other hand as a wind started blowing through the room. The lights flickered twice more and then went out, but the room wasn’t dark. Something was glowing in the middle of the room, casting a sickly yellow pallor across everything in its vicinity. Slowly, a shape took place within the light. Out of the corner of his eye, Lochlan saw the girl grow pale, her eyes wide, as she slowly edged back towards the wall.
A form slowly grew from the light, becoming more solid with each second, revealing a man floating several feet above the floor, a man with flesh burned from his bones, huge glowing eyes, and a giant black void of nothingness for a mouth. He saw Lochlan and screamed; a high-pitched wail that sounded eerily like a train whistle.
Lochlan held up the holy water and rune stones. “I know you, Clarence. You’ve suffered enough. Don’t make me use these.”
The spirit clenched its fists, shaking them angrily. The train whistle sounded again as the squeal of metal on metal—the sound of a train’s brakes—filled the room.
Not much time left now. “Show me the sin that torments you,” Lochlan shouted, bracing himself.
