Dying on Second

by E. C. Bell

  I jerked awake covered in fear sweat, and tried to figure out where I was.

  The office. I was at the office with Karen.

  She was standing by the window, staring out into the dark. She didn’t move as I threw the blankets back and dragged myself off the cot.

  “Sounded like a bad one,” she said without turning around. “You all right?”

  “Sorry,” I said. I wrapped myself in a blanket, then headed to the Bunn to make some coffee. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”

  “Does that happen often?” she asked. She seemed mesmerized by whatever she saw out the window. “The nightmares?”

  “Often enough,” I said, then shrugged. “Guess both of us still have some stuff to deal with.”

  “Looks like,” she said. “Want to talk about it?”

  “The nightmare?” I said. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Karen asked. “It really did sound bad.”

  “They usually are,” I said, trying for a light tone. She didn’t need to dig any further into my personal life. “But they fade, fast enough. You know?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I know. I’ve had some experience with nightmares over the years.”

  “Maybe I can teach you a technique my shrink taught me—or tried to teach me—to lessen them,” I said.

  She looked at me, surprise on her face.

  “You go to a psychiatrist?” she asked. “I—I thought psychiatrists were just for—you know—crazy people.” She laughed. “Am I dealing with a crazy person?”

  “No,” I said, my voice tight. Why had I mentioned my shrink? “Maybe back in your day that’s the way people thought of shrinks, but lots of people go for therapy now. The world’s pretty—complicated. People need help.”

  “I imagine,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “So, what do you talk to this—shrink— about?”

  “Stuff that’s happening in my life,” I said. I could have kicked myself for starting this conversation. “You know. Stuff.”

  “Like whatever the nightmares are about, I imagine,” she said.

  I thought about my latest nightmare. Trying to find my mother, and being pursued by ghosts. “Not always,” I said. “Sometimes it’s better to keep some of my—stuff—to myself.” I laughed, hoping it sounded at least half real, and pour myself a cup of coffee. “I don’t talk about ghosts to my shrink. It’s not—helpful.”

  “I imagine,” she said, looking at me. “When I was alive, if someone had told me they could see ghosts, I would have thought they were batty. I take it that attitude hasn’t changed much in the past forty years?”

  “You’re right about that,” I said.

  “And that’s the reason you don’t tell your psychiatrist,” she continued. “Because she couldn’t possibly understand, having never experienced interacting with the dead.”

  “True,” I said. “She says she can understand what I’ve gone through, but she can’t. Not really.”

  “I get it,” Karen said. “That’s the way I feel about you.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve never been dead,” she said. “So you don’t really know what it’s like. You know?”

  “It’s not quite the same—” I started, but she cut off my words.

  “After all,” she said, turning back to the window, “until you’ve been murdered, you really don’t have any real idea what it’s like to be murdered.”

  “Wait—”

  “And you don’t know what it’s like to have your murderer in front of you, every day. Living his life, every day, while you are dead.” She turned and stared at me, her eyes glowing. “You know?”

  “I do know how that feels,” I said. “Honestly, I do. I had a stalker, and I would have done anything to get away from him. To keep him from me. But I didn’t try to hurt him. I let the cops handle it.” I thought for a second how that all turned out, but decided not to tell Karen. “Revenge isn’t the answer, Karen.”

  “So you say,” Karen said. Then she turned back to the window, and wouldn’t speak to me anymore. I’d done nothing to convince her, and I could tell she was just biding her time until I took her back to the diamond. And I couldn’t even blame her that much.

  She had to be pulled from the path she was on, but I couldn’t think with my nightmare still rattling around in my head.

  I turned my attention to the computer. I hoped that stupid cat and dog memes would be enough to calm me, and maybe even jog my memory. Mom must have spoken about revenge. About how to keep a ghost from committing the act of vengeance even if they didn’t want to move on. There had to be a way to do it. But I was running out of time.

  Thanks for leaving me with all these unanswered questions, Mom. Thanks a lot.

  MY CELL RANG, just after seven in the morning. It was Sylvia, and for the first time ever, she didn’t sound exhausted. She sounded jazzed. I guessed that finding Karen’s body had given her a new lease on life.

  “Sylvia,” I said. “Give me good news. Please.”

  “You can get on the ball diamond,” she said. “Anytime you want. How’s that?”

  “That’s great,” I said. “Fantastic. I just have to get James to pick me up and take me there, and then everything will be all good.”

  “I can get you there faster,” Sylvia said. “If you want.”

  Oh lord, she was offering to drive me to the ball diamond. Just about the last thing in the world I wanted after a night filled with ghost babysitting and nightmares.

  “You don’t have to bother yourself,” I said hastily. “It won’t take him long—”

  “Oh, I don’t mean me,” Sylvia laughed. “I can’t drop everything for you. No, there’s an unmarked car sitting outside your office—”

  “How did you know I was at the office?” I barked. “You’re not following me. Are you?”

  “No,” Sylvia said. “James called me, last night. Told me you were staying at the office with the ghost.” I could almost see the word ghost in italics, but left it alone. “And he also told me that Andy had called him earlier. That he was pumping you guys for information about what we were looking for at the ball diamond.” There was a small silence. “James told me neither of you told him anything. He was telling me the truth, right?”

  “Of course he was,” I snapped.

  “Good,” she said. “The problem is, he disappeared a short while after that phone call.”

  My heart tightened. “You are talking about Andy, aren’t you?”

  “Of course Andy,” Sylvia said. “Who did you think I meant? James?”

  “I guess not,” I said, even though that was exactly what I’d thought.

  “Well, it was Andy,” she said. “He went off the grid. That’s why I decided to put a car on you. Just to make sure. You know?”

  I sighed. “How are you going to find him?”

  “It won’t take long,” she said. “As soon as he uses a credit card or his bank card, we’ll know where he is.” I turned to Karen, who was still standing by the window.

  “Did you hear?” I asked. “We can go to the diamond.”

  “About time,” she said.

  But as I pulled on my hoodie over my sleep wrinkled clothes, yanked on my shoes, and put the softball in my pocket, she turned back to the window. Watching something. The world, I guessed.

  I CALLED JAMES, and he took us to Diamond Two.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked, when we slewed past the parking lot and right onto the grass next to the diamond proper.

  I glanced in the back seat at Karen. She shook her head. “You need to talk to the rest,” she said. “Remember?”

  “No,” I said to James. “I’ll be all right.”

  He was going to argue. I could tell, so I pointed. “I’ll be right there,” I said. “On the diamond. You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

  “All right,” he said reluctantly. “Just don’t go out of my line of sight. Please.”

  �
�Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t go anywhere but right over there. Honest.”

  I got out of the car and Karen followed me to the torn up diamond. For the moment, we were alone.

  “Look what they’ve done,” Karen said. “Because of that man.” Her eyes flared in the overcast light. “He wrecks everything he touches. Really, he does.”

  I pulled the softball from my hoodie pocket and stared at it. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this,” I said.

  “What?” Karen called. She’d walked away from me, and was standing by the hole that used to be second base. “What did you say?”

  “I said maybe I shouldn’t leave you here alone,” I said.

  “I have been here over forty years,” she replied. “This is like coming home.”

  “Not really,” I said. “Your body is gone. Things are changing around here, fast. As soon as your identity is confirmed, your family will be here. Friends. You’re going to see them all, for the first time in decades. I think you’ll need my support.”

  “Maybe I will,” Karen said. “In time. But it’s going to take the medical examiner a while to prove that my body is mine. Right?”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “But—”

  “I think I heard something about it taking months,” she said.

  She had me there. It could take months to get DNA results. “Yeah,” I said.

  “That’s when I’ll really need you,” she said. “In the winter, probably. When I’m all alone here.” She looked at me and smiled. “But right now, I have my people. Or will, soon.” She pointed at the right field fence, and I turned and watched one after another of the ghosts appear. “They can support me. You know?”

  I thought about what their support meant and shook my head. “You gotta forget the revenge thing, Karen. I’m not kidding. It’s dangerous—”

  “Didn’t you tell me that Andrew is in the wind?” she asked.

  I nodded, reluctantly.

  “And even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come back here,” she said. “Since the police are looking for him and all.”

  I nodded again.

  “So, there will be no revenge,” Karen said. “Just let us finish our season, please. That’s really all I want now. To finish my season in peace.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, but she did not look back at me. Didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Just turned and watched as her people popped into existence at the fence line.

  “All right,” I said. “I’m going to trust you to do the right thing.”

  I walked to the hole that had held her body at second base. Jumped in and dropped the ball to the ground, then kicked dirt until it was covered. Scrabbled out, and brushed my hands as clean as I could.

  As I stood, I saw that nearly all the ghosts had coalesced. I didn’t know how they’d react to me being there—they’d been pretty angry, before. I thought that maybe it would be better if they had their reunion alone.

  “I imagine James is getting impatient,” I said. “I should go. Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

  “Absolutely,” Karen said. “I feel like I’ve come home. Besides, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I said, confused.

  “You have a game,” she said. “Or did you forget.”

  “That’s right. I do.” I nodded and felt like a bit of a fool. She’d be here when I got back, and if the softball didn’t hold her, she knew how to find me.

  Karen:

  My Welcome Home

  MY TEAM SHOWED up as Marie was leaving, and nearly lost control when they saw me sitting by the right field fence. They surrounded me and pressed in, as close as they could get without entering my interior space. I could feel their light, and it was wonderful. Like coming home, for real.

  “We thought you were gone forever,” Charlotte said. “That you’d disappeared.”

  “No chance of that,” I said. “Marie brought me back.”

  “So she found you?” Rita asked. “We told her she had to, but I never thought in a million years she’d ever pull it off.”

  “Well, she did,” I said. “And now, apparently, the police know about Andrew Westwood. What he did to me.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte said. She sounded disappointed. “Does this mean that we’re going to leave him alone?”

  “Oh no,” I said. “It just means the timeline is going to move up.” I smiled. “Even though Marie’s convinced he won’t come back here now that the police are looking for him, I know him. He’ll be back. He won’t be able to stay away.”

  Like me, I thought. We’re both compelled to be here. The thought made me angry and then I remembered prodding James’s little mobile phone off his desk. I knew how to touch him, but I wasn’t strong enough to hurt him the way he deserved. If I was right and he showed up here soon, I’d have to hurry.

  “We need to keep practicing interacting with the living world,” I said. “Because I believe that he’ll be back soon, and we have to be ready for him.”

  “Ready for him?” Rita asked.

  “Ready to make him pay,” I said. “Before the living take over.”

  They all nodded. They understood.

  Strangely enough, as we practiced, I was happy. This was like coming home and being with family. I hoped that after we’d dealt with Andrew, we’d feel the same way.

  Marie didn’t seem to think we would, but how would she know? We were dead, and she was not. And that was the truth of it.

  Marie:

  Handbills and More Fresh Air

  AFTER WE GOT back to the office I wrapped my arms around James’s waist. “Thank you,” I said. “You really helped me keep it all together, with Karen and everything.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, you help me get the Comox paperwork done, and we’ll be square. Almost.”

  “What do you mean, almost?” I asked.

  “When this is done,” James said, “our work day is officially over. In fact, our work week is almost over.”

  “Seriously?” I looked at the day timer on his desk. He was right. We had nothing left for the day, and only one job James had to work on the next day—trying to get the money shot at another no-tell motel, for the Vickerson soon-to-be-divorce case. And that was it for the week.

  “This is not good,” I said. “You do have employees who rely on you, you know. You want me to try a little online advertising or something to drum up business?”

  He grinned and pulled a pile of handbills from his desk drawer. “That sounds good,” he said. “But let’s stick to something local, at least for today. Are you up for a little exercise?”

  Handbills. Good grief. But I smiled and nodded. Since I’d made it absolutely clear I was not ready to consider my own second revenue stream, I decided I’d better help him with his.

  But handbills. God.

  AT LEAST MILLIE liked the walk. Four hours later, the handbills were either tucked under windshield wiper blades or blowing in the wind, and we were on our way back to James’s place with a large pizza. Millie was already asleep in the back seat and refused to open her eyes when we got home. I ended up carrying her which James found extremely amusing. Me? Not so much.

  I hoped I’d be able to sleep as well that night, but even though I was exhausted, I only managed to keep my eyes closed for a couple of hours before the nightmare, huge and horrific, bounced me out of bed.

  I’d found my mother, but all she did was point and laugh as the ghosts screamed for my help while they attacked me and tore me apart.

  Apparently I’d been screaming too because James was staring at me, horrified, when I finally pulled myself free from the nightmare’s talons.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, and then I started to cry. Of course.

  James wrapped a blanked around me. I huddled under it, shaking like I was wandering the plains in the middle of winter or something, as he set me at his tiny dining room table and made me a cup of tea. “When do you go to see
Dr. Parkerson again?” he asked. “I think your dreams are getting worse.”

  “Nightmares,” I said. “I’m having nightmares.”

  “Yeah, right.” He handed me the tea, then sat across the table from me, staring at me earnestly. “Have you told her how bad they’ve gotten?”

  I stared down at my tea. “No,” I finally said. “I haven’t told her.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve decided to go to someone else,” I said. “She’s not working out.”

  “Oh.” His face stilled. “I thought you liked her.”

  I shrugged. “I did, well enough. Until she started pushing the drugs again.”

  “Maybe you need them this time,” he said. “To sleep.”

  “I don’t,” I snapped. I grabbed my cup but my hands were still shaking so badly I slopped tea everywhere. “I think they’ve gotten worse because I’m dealing with the ghost. With Karen. And it’s not like I can talk to Parkerson about that problem, now can I?”

  “Maybe she’d understand,” James began, but I cut his words off with a look.

  “She won’t understand about ghosts,” I said.

  I managed to get the cup to my lips without spilling, and drank deeply. It tasted perfect, of course, and I smiled my appreciation at James. He did not smile back.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen Dr. Parkerson?”

  “A couple of weeks,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I tried the smiling thing again, but it still didn’t work. He was not appeased. “Have you found a new psychiatrist?”

  I shook my head.

  “Have you even looked for one?”

  Crap.

  “No,” I said. “But I’ve been busy.”

  “Too busy to find someone who can help you with your nightmares and sleeplessness?” he asked. “Good grief, Marie. People can die from lack of sleep.”

  I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s documented,” he said, pointing in the general vicinity of his computer. “Seriously.”

  “Quit doing medical research online, James.” I tried to keep my voice light, but couldn’t. “All you find is crap to scare yourself. Seriously.”