As far as I was concerned, it was high time that I started making this paranormal power work for me.
My hand was a pair of sevens. The dealer held a queen and a four, which meant the odds were in my favor. “I’m going to split and double down.” More chips go from my sizeable pile and for a guy whose picture is in the dictionary next to the phrase “the chips are down,” I was due for a comeback.
Two casinos and several hours after arriving in Atlantic City with a meager five hundred dollars, there was five grand in front of me and just over two grand in the hotel safe. Occasionally, but not often, it’s good to be me. The dealer hit me and I picked up a jack and an eight for totals of seventeen and fifteen. I stayed at this point. The pretty dealer flips over her four and hits with a king – busted.
My eighty dollars in chips becomes one sixty. I decided to act paranoid and switch tables. Sliding the dealer a twenty dollar chip, I picked up my pot and headed towards a table two down from my current location. My ankle was still tender from the sprain I’d picked up three weeks ago, but I could manage, even with the extra weight of the chips in my hands.
Two gentlemen in suits were blocking my path. “Pardon me sir, but we’d like you to come with us,” the taller one said.
The last casino I’d been at sent a guy to inspect me, looking for cameras or other hidden devices, before asking me to take my winnings and business elsewhere. It looked like I wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to that very attractive Asian dealer after all.
Oh well, five hundred into seven grand in under six hours. Not a bad little trade off.
“No problem gentlemen.” Don followed along; making faces at the men all the way.
They led me into a fairly stark little room. It was all very quaint. If they were looking to pressure me or something, Don and I knew it wasn’t going to work.
Five minutes later the chief of security strolls in. Not some hulking thug, just a well dressed black man slightly under six feet tall. “Mickey Pitman, Mr. Ross. How do you do?”
“I can’t really complain, Mr. Pitman. I’m on a hot streak.”
He looked at the container of chips in front of me. “That’s a pretty good haul, Mr. Ross. Question is how much am I going to let you leave here with?”
Don peeks out through the wall. “He doesn’t have a bunch of goons out in the hallway, Mike, just let him wave his limp dick in the air and let’s cash out and go somewhere else.”
Scratching my chin, “I’m not certain what you’re talking about Mr. Pitman. I would expect to be able to walk out of here with my winnings.”
“That would be a bad idea,” Pitman says flatly.
“What? Expecting the casino to honor my winnings?”
Pitman looks at me, “No, dipshit. I wasn’t talking to you. I was referring to your friend here’s suggestion that you move on to the next casino. I got your ‘limp dick’ right here boy and I can promise you that you don’t want any part of this.”
A slight lump in my throat formed as Pitman looked at me. “I’m not chief of security for this hotel. I’m chief of security for Atlantic City, Mr. Ross. Now, let me guess, you’re a new Skinwalker with a nice shiny new body and no coin to go along with it? You grab one of your buddies to take your new legs out for a test drive and the two of you decide that you’re going to tap the river of money flowing through this town. How am I doing so far?”
Concentrating, I thought I could see a faint aura around him. He was either alive, like me, or I just met my first Skinwalker. Eva warned me about the Skinwalkers. Deciding to play along with his story, I said, “Pretty good, but what makes you think I’m brand new?”
“Because if you weren’t a newbie, you’d know not to wander into someone else’s territory and pull this kind of rookie wet-behind-the-ears bullshit. I’ll take another shot in the dark, you and fatigue boy here got killed off in Iraq and still haven’t really figured out what you’re going to do with yourselves?”
“You must see this all the time.”
“Once or twice a month; after the holidays, things are busy, Mr. Ross. You’re the third one this week.”
I should have figured it wouldn’t be this easy. It never is. “How’d you catch us, security cameras?”
“I suppose I should give you boys a lesson on staying out of trouble, even though you’re both dead. There are lots of ways. Some places are equipped with thermal imaging and look for cold spots where someone could stand and watch the hole card. Some of the pit bosses are Skinwalkers, but the easiest way is to just watch our dealers. You think just any pretty face gets to be a dealer here? No, we hire sensitive people and then watch for them getting nervous and twitchy. It’s gambling boys and everyone has a ‘tell.’ The one you were at, she kept running her hand through her hair, not that your buddy here would have noticed the way he was ogling her tits.”
As Don and I were processing this, two ghosts floated down through the ceiling. “Twenty three hundred up in the hotel safe Mr. S.” One of the ghosts reports, while I inventoried my options. There were several bottles of iron filings, but they were up in the room. My sword was out in Rusty’s car. Naturally, there was the small problem of Rusty himself.
“Well, you’re the expert Mr. Pitman. How do you normally handle these situations?”
“Nice to see that you’re willing to be reasonable. Let’s see, all and all, you’ve taken about seven large. Which casino did you pick that up at?”
I gave him the names and he looked annoyed, but not at me. “I need to get some better people over there. Alright, how much you need?”
“Five grand.” I shoot for the mid-range.
He laughed. “Nice try. You get to keep the twenty-three hundred upstairs and I’m being generous. I’ll get the front desk to bump you up to one of the suites, you have a nice meal, take in some of the sights and stay away from the tables, and we’ll call it even. Tomorrow, you get out of town and don’t come back until you learn to respect other people’s territories. My last lesson is don’t bother taking this little act to Las Vegas and whatever you do, don’t mess with the Indian casinos – just don’t. There are some things even being dead won’t save you from.”
I really didn’t like the sound of that. “So this is your territory?”
Mickey laughed even harder. “I just work here. If I ran this territory, do you think I’d be wasting my time with a couple of little fish like you?”
Don was curious, “I bet it’s one of the gangsters from the twenties, is it Capone?”
Pitman spit on the ground and growled in anger. “That worthless no account punk, he’s just a little bootlicker out in Chitown. No little boys, this is Diamond Jim Brady’s territory. Always has been, always will be and it’s my job to keep it that way.” From his reaction, I guessed he was a contemporary of Capone’s. I knew as much about gangsters as I did about the civil war six months ago, which was basically nothing. I added that to my list of things I should probably learn - fast.
Mickey scoops up my take and points to one of the ghosts, “Abe here is going to keep an eye on you for the rest of your stay. Don’t try and lose him and I won’t wreck that young little body you have. On behalf of Mr. Brady, I hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay here in beautiful Atlantic City. Check with the front desk for your new room key.”
The other ghost left and Abe introduced himself as Abraham Landau. He was a balding Jewish man, not exactly what I’d think of when the word “gangster” came to mind. Of course, my education came from watching the Sopranos and various Hollywood films, so go figure. Still, I was curious, “So, who is Mr. Pitman, really?”
Abe smiled a spectral grin. “That’s Dutch Shultz himself. You’re lucky you caught him in a good mood. Smart thing to keep your mouth shut and not do anything stupid. Plus, you weren’t after anything important, just a few dollars.”
That surprised me, “There are things more important than money to a Walker?” This sounded useful.
He laughed openly, “You boys r
eally are new frogs. Come on follow me.”
Looking at Don, I said, “Strange world, Civil War heroes are my enemies and mobsters are being nice to me. Am I still the good guy?”
“Dunno,” he answered, “I’m beginning to wonder if there really are any good guys.”
The suite was pretty impressive, complete with its own pool table and wet bar. A huge plasma screen television dominated one wall and the leather couch alone was probably worth more than I’d ever made in a single year.
Anyone asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up right then would have received the answer – Mobster. Shultz’s assistant was a fountain of information.
“Tell me more about these territories?”
“What do you want to know?”
Where was I going to begin?
“Where are these territories? Who runs them?”
He sat down on the couch and tells me to turn on the TV and flip around. I got to be his channel changer, but at least he was offering something useful in exchange. “Well, you already know that you’re in Diamond Jim’s territory. He and Miss Lillian run the lower half of Jersey. They used to claim up to the Hudson, but the fighting between Boss Tweed and the Roosevelts for control of New York City started spilling out this way and it became more trouble than it was worth, so Diamond Jim decides to pull back to south Jersey.”
“The Roosevelts? Like the President?”
“You got it.”
“Which one?”
“Both I think.”
“No shit?”
Abe shrugs, “Why would I lie to you?”
The dead man had a point. “How about south of here, DC, Philly, and Baltimore?”
“I don’t really leave this area much. I went to Philly once. Some outfit I’d never heard of before runs that place. Not much going on in Baltimore, I dunno, but I hear there’re like somewhere around eight groups trying to control DC.”
That was disappointing news considering my proximity to our nation’s capital. “What are they trying to control?”
“Power, influence, money; there’s a lot of it around DC and everyone wants a piece.”
“You said there’s something more important than money?”
“Energy.”
“What sort of energy?” I remembered Darren’s notes about how the ghosts collected energy in Gettysburg, but wanted to hear it for myself.
He shakes his head at us and laughs. “How did you two ever get this far? Maybe it’s the war; I’d forgotten how bad it was after the war back in the seventies. Spiritual energy, dipshit, it’s what you’re using to keep a hold of that body. That’s how I can lift up things without having a physical body; without it, you’ll lose control of your meat puppet there soon enough.”
“Where do you get this energy?”
“Different ways; some get it by haunting and pull it out of living people’s fear. Me, I walk around the casinos, there’s all kinds of nervous energy and whatnot there. You kind of absorb it. The more people around, the more energy you can pickup. You’re gonna need to figure out where you’re going to get the extra energy to keep that body under your thumb. How long you had it?”
“Only about two weeks,” I said, hoping that I could keep my story straight.
“Started feeling weak, like the host is fighting back?”
“No, not really.”
“The guy, he must be feeble then, which from the looks of people these days don’t really surprise me.” He pointed at the commercial. “Look at that, people these days got it too easy. They got mobile phone and fancy jobs. I was alive during the Depression. You miserable bastards don’t know nothing about hardship. Oh, hey! I forgot this fight was on. Just press that button to charge it to your room. I’ve got a side bet with Jimmy ‘the Wrench’ on this one.”
Obviously, he didn’t “waste” his energy without a reason. Well that sounded like a gangster name if I’d ever heard one. Abe continued, “Too bad you guys didn’t come yesterday; I probably could have gotten you a ticket.” The fight only lasts three rounds and Landau was pleased that his fighter won. The Wrench apparently would have to pay up.
The doorbell rings and I answered it. A very attractive looking hotel employee pushed in a cart with a deli tray and a small cooler filled with six different brands of beer.
“Compliments of Mr. Pitman,” she coos.
I fished a ten out of my pocket and tipped her. Yeah, this was the life!
Our watcher waltzed over to the tray and breathes deeply using his arms to steer the scent towards him. “I’ve been dead over seventy years, but I still love the smell of kosher meats.” He looks at Don, “Say, you wanna come downstairs with me and some of the boys? The dancers for the show should be in the dressing room in a few minutes. It’s the one thing I miss more than this…”
“What about me?” I ask.
“You, you don’t go nowhere. Wait here, enjoy the food. I’ll make some arrangements. You like blondes, brunettes, or redheads? Break in that new body of yours properly. Never mind, don’t answer, I’ll surprise you. Come on, it’s Hodges right?”
“Yeah. You cool with this Mike?”
“Er, yeah sure. Have a good time. When in Rome…”
I wasn’t really. Even in the service, I was never really comfortable with the idea of making sex a commercial enterprise. Heather never charged me for anything more than a lap dance.
Yeah, I’ve got some great standards don’t I?
Don followed Abe straight through the floor, leaving me alone in a suite that probably costs per night more than Mom’s mortgage payment. I grabbed a couple of sandwiches, a few expensive imported beers and sat down in front of the mother of all television sets.
One thing was certain; I doubted that it could get any better than this.
The big problem of never really experiencing good things in my life was that I had a slight problem recognizing too-good-to-be-true.
There weren’t many times in my life where I’d woken up hung over and completely out of it. It was the reason I avoided tequila like the plague. While I was trying to put two and two together and spell the word “cat,” the voices around me became more intelligible.
“How long has he been out?”
“Couple of hours. He should be coming around in a few minutes.”
“What about his friend?”
“The living one or the dead one?”
“Who gives a shit about the flesh bag? Where’s the ghost?”
“I had three guys rough him up, he managed to get away, but Jimmy says that Mister Hodges was in a bad way. I’ve got people out looking for him.”
There’s a pause, “Doesn’t matter, he has no idea where we are right now and even if he did, it won’t help his little friend here.”
Okay, I was fully awake now. Adrenaline was doing a nice job of countering whatever they’d gotten me with, must have been something in the beer.
I was lying on a hardwood floor, but there were several pieces of uncomfortable metal under me. Struggling, I rose to my feet looking at the intricate metal design beneath me. Imagine my shock when I realized it was a metal representation of The Eye of Horus. Mickey, Abe, and another ghost were in the room.
Mickey lets out a barking laugh, “Look who’s back in the land of the living? Don’t bother trying to escape. That’s a spirit cage you’re standing in, it’s called an oubliette.”
I played along trying to get my feet back under me, so to speak. “An obi-what?”
“It’s French for you ain’t going anywhere, idiot. You’re stuck in there until we let you out. We’re not letting you out until you give up the body.”
“I’ve become rather attached to it, so no thanks.”
My good friend Abe chimed in, “Boss don’t worry about it. Guy doesn’t know how to collect energy and he’ll run out soon.”
Shultz gives me a cold blooded smile. “He doesn’t? Man, they really are getting dumber by the day.”
The house was a nice new construction ty
pe, all brick and hardwood floors. There were a few nice paintings up and several pictures of Mickey Pitman standing with various dignitaries – a true “I love me” wall.
“What are you going to do with it, my body that is?”
“Well, I think I’m going to switch from dark to light meat. I’ve been in this tired old thing for over a decade. Yours looks like some prime real estate, a bit short, but in good health. If you’d come to town wearing an overweight fifty year old balding insurance salesman, I’d have let you walk, just like I promised. Instead, you’ve got a tidy little twenty-something in mint condition and I’m going to take it from you, because I can. I’ll unload Mickey Pitman on the body swapping market and Mike Ross is going to take over my security ‘consulting’ firm.”
That really didn’t sound like a good idea. I guess it was a little flattering that he thought I was such a catch. Though it was a bit disturbing to be compared to a car or a nice set of clothes. No wonder Eva spoke so distastefully about Skinwalkers. “What happens to me?”
“We could maybe make a deal. Most ghosts just fade away – and those that don’t, few make it to being a walker. You might have some potential down the line, even if you are an ignorant little dipshit. Then again, I don’t like competition. I think I’ll just leave you in the Oubliette and let you fade from existence. You can’t absorb any energy in there, kiddo. You’ll just get weaker and weaker. Eventually, you’ll just fade away.”
Okay, I officially reversed my opinion. I didn’t want to be a mobster when I grew up. Reaching out, I feel the barrier. It reminded me of what I tried to do with Charlie Snowden’s gravesite. I could sense the barrier. It felt like a heavy curtain. It might be enough to stop a ghost, but not me. I could push through this, no problem.
“Well, since we’re going to be here for a while, I’m curious, what happens to the host?”
“Depends, ‘walkers keep ‘em in the background. Let ‘em drive the body every now and then. They just think they’re crazy and not in control of their lives. Me, I just eat them. It’s easier that way. Mickey Pitman’s long gone. I hop out of Pitman’s body and he’ll just stand here drooling like a goddammed vegetable. He’d keep breathing for a few days and then the body shuts down. Abe here is going to drive Mickey around until we line up a buyer. Old David Michael Ross, Junior there is about to become one hotshot protégé.”
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