Purgatory: Ghoul: Part One

by Lon Varnadore

  “Sounds good.” Cameron turned and headed up the main staircase of the house. It was in the front room, and for a moment he marvelled at the architecture. He wondered what it would have looked like had it not been vacated all those years ago.

  Once white marble was strewn with trash and garbage from teens using the place as a crash spot and fuck pad. A few homeless used the place once and again, yet they never stayed very long, since Alfredo didn’t want them to.

  He plucked up his courage and started to head up the stairs. It started almost as soon as his foot hit the first step. A few pieces of trash started to rustle. “Alfredo? It’s me.” Trash started to fly around, hitting him in the shoulder.

  “Come on Alfredo, you know who it is.”

  More trash started to swirl around, hitting all over his upper body. Then, Cameron heard the rattling of a bottle being dragged across the floor before it flew towards him. He ducked and the thing exploded over his head.

  “Fuck’s sake, Alfie, it’s Cameron!”

  The trash kept whirling around, and Cameron moved up the steps. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t come to see you sooner. But, hey, I’m here now.”

  There was silence except for the rustling of the paper as it swirled around like a miniature tornado. Then, Cameron thought he heard something else.

  “Said you’d be back!”

  A rock came hurtling towards him. It clipped Cameron in the shoulder and caused him to lose his footing. Cameron grabbed the banister and felt his stomach drop when it started to come apart in his hands. It held, and he jerked to a stop when the banister’s collapse stopped. He got his legs under him and started to walk up the steps again.

  “Alfie, I’m sorry, man. Trust me, I wanted to come and see you.”

  He was close to the top of the steps and was able to see that the tornado of paper and bottles was obscuring something: something about the size of a ten-year-old boy.

  “Alfie, come on. I’m sorry,” Cameron said. He sat down at the top of the stairs, his back to the curved wall. He let out a held breath. “Come one, let’s talk a little.”

  The tornado started to subside, and the sight of Alfie came into view. He wore shiny shoes and a pair of pants that were old-fashioned and a bit too small for him. Suspenders of a dim red, holding up the shorts and a white and grey pinstriped shirt. His hair was slicked back, except for a single strand than hung in his eyes. The ghost pushed the hair out of his face. “You broke your promise.”

  Cameron nodded. “I know buddy, I’m sorry.” He held out a hand, “Forgive me?”

  Alfie turned around, “I should keep throwing things at you. Scares everyone off. Everyone always leaves.” The ghost’s shoulders sagged, and Cameron heard a sniffle.

  Cameron grunted. “Alfie, I’m here. I promise I won’t leave until you say, okay?”

  Alfie turned around, smiling. “Ok.”

  He moved forward and gave the sitting Cameron a barely-felt hug. “Where have you been?”

  “School, homework, helping with my sister. The usual.”

  “That girl around?” Alfie asked, looking around with a sneer.

  “Michelle, yeah, she’s downstairs, looking for you.”

  Alfie’s face blanched, which was hard for a ghost, Cameron thought. “She needs to get away from there. There’s a bad thing there.”

  “What is it, Alfie?”

  “Don’t know. Was never allowed in the basement. Never went there… scary.” Alfie trembled a little.

  Cameron wondered what his parents did to dress him up like Buster Brown. Alfie had only died three years ago, when he was seven. He looked a bit older now. Why do the dead still age?

  “Huh?” Alfie asked looking at Cameron. “What are you thinking about?”

  Shit. Cameron had forgotten that sometimes ghost and poltergeists could pick up surface thoughts. “Nothing kiddo. Just thinking about random stuff.”

  “Am I dead?” Alfie asked, looking frail suddenly.

  Shit, shit, shit. Cameron put his hands out. “Alfie, look at me. It is going to be ok. No need to freak out.”

  “But, I’m dead. You said so yourself. How? How am I dead?”

  Cameron groaned as he felt the tornado of paper and bottles start to swirl around more. Damn it, this kid is gonna lose it. Cameron focused as best he could and grabbed Alfie by the hands, holding on to Alfie for a minute. “Just calm down, Alfie. Listen to my voice. Everything is going to be ok. You are going to be ok. I promise.”

  Alfie wailed. The tornado engulfed both of them. Cameron was struck again and again by sharp glass, rocks, and paper whipping by. He gritted his teeth and bit back a curse. “I am here, Alfie, relax and calm down.”

  Cameron felt for his ability and nodded as something responded, a warmth that opened from out of nowhere. He opened his eyes, blinking back the grit that swirled around him. Alfie was there but not looking at him. He was looking at the light to his right. A light too bright for Cameron to look through.

  “I-I can hear my parents,” Alfie said with a faint smile.

  “Yeah, they’re waiting for you, Alfie.” Cameron said. He slowly let go of the child apparition. Alfie turned and gave Cameron another hug. “Thanks, Cameron.”

  “No problem, kid,” Cameron said. He watched, beaming a smile as Alfie scurried into the light. The kid ghost and the light disappeared, and Cameron was alone on the landing. “Well, that went better than I expected,” Cameron said to himself. He then shouted, “Hey Michelle, we can go now. Got Alfie to cross over.”

  Cameron went to the door of the basement. The smells of rot and mildew was even worse. He tried the light for the basement, the switch had a button for on and one for off. “Weird,” he thought, when he couldn’t get the thing to work. “Well, that sucks.” He peered down the stairs, seeing a hint of sunlight from the basement window, yet it was pretty dark. He took a breath and called out for Michelle, but she wasn’t there. She didn’t answer him at all.

  “What the hell! Michelle?”

  He started to walk down the steps, holding onto the railing and moving with a slow, surefooted pace. “Damn it, Michelle, you bring me out here, beg me to skip school so I can come here with you, and then you disappear?”

  He got about halfway down when something grabbed him by the ankles and jerked. Cameron slammed into the wooden steps and slid down them, hitting his chin on each rough-hewn board. He hit the stone floor and felt horrible. He groaned, unsure if he was seriously hurt. He gingerly moved, found nothing broken, and stood up when there was a hiss of laughter from the darkness of the basement.

  “Welcome, boy. You seem to know how to make an entrance.”

  Cameron turned his head and regretted it. He saw a humanoid form in the dim light, though it was stooped over and something was wrong with its jaw. Cameron moved back towards the stairs. “Umm, sorry. I didn’t know-”

  “Shhhh, boy. You are going to be all right. I promise. Things will be over very quickly for you.”

  Cameron was ready to bolt up the steps when the door above slammed shut. Cameron turned to see the thing lunge towards him. Inhumanly large jaws open filled his vision.

  Cameron ducked and bolted way from the creature, the thing hitting the wall and giving a hiss. Cameron struck several things on his run, finally slamming into a wooden shelf with rotten boards. He fell through it and felt jars hit him on the shoulders and legs before he heard the shattering sound. Then the smell of fruit in the air was thick and rich.

  “Getting into the preserves, are you?” the voice asked with a mocking laugh.

  Cameron pushed himself away as best he could, cutting his hands on the broken glass. He felt the dark unnatural presence was thicker here, denser and far uglier that he thought was possible. The sense grew as the thing neared him, closer and closer.

  “Mmmmm, you smell exquisite. I am sure your blood is going to be very helpful for me in the coming days.”

  Cameron’s hand reached out and found a metal handle. He grabbed it and fumb
led with it. It was an old Maglite. His thumb hit the rough, broken rubber button, and the light sliced through the darkness.

  The beam struck the thing, and it screamed. Cameron got a good look at it, and his hands dropped the flashlight. It was a dark reddish-brown thing, looking something like a man, but naked, and its jaws were filled with rows of nasty, sharp teeth. They looked dirty and stained with old blood. Cameron scrambled for the light again, but the thing kicked it away.

  “Not a second chance for you, little meat,” the creature said.

  Two shots rang out at that moment, striking the thing in the back.

  “Run, boy!”

  Cameron didn’t ask nor care, for the thing was stunned by whatever hit it. He zipped past the creature and found an old man on the steps, a revolver in hand. He also held a flashlight and aimed it at the thing.

  “Doyle! So good of you to show up,” the creature growled.

  Cameron ran to the old man’s side. “Up the stairs, get outside. Now!”

  Cameron did as instructed, though he lingered on the steps when he heard the thing speak again.

  “Too bad you can’t protect him forever. Or do you think you can watch over him the way you did Jason?”

  “What did you do, Thomas?”

  “Your little Order doesn’t even know?” Thomas laughed.

  Doyle looked at the creature he had called Thomas. “I knew it was you, before Maggie said anything.”

  “I look forward to destroying all of you. And feasting on your blood especially, my old friend.”

  Doyle turned to see Cameron was still at the stairs. “Run!” He then turned back and fired three more shots at the thing.

  Cameron was stunned. He didn’t know what to do. The creature was moving closer and closer to Doyle. The old man’s hands were starting to shake. The light wasn’t held on the creature. The gun slipped from his grasp. Cameron moved at the same time as the monster. He rushed down, grabbed the flashlight and swung, striking the creature in the jaw.

  There was a keening from the creature as it was sent sprawling by the blow. Cameron grabbed the old man by the jacket and pulled him up towards the doorway. It tried to close, but Cameron was there in time and kept it open. Doyle was gasping for breath, his face red and his breath coming in shaky gasps.

  “What is going on?”

  “Out…side…get…out…side,” was all the man could muster.

  The creature let out a howl and started to run up the steps. Cameron pulled the half-conscious man towards the front door. It was locked. He twisted the lock and tried to open it, but corrosion was keeping it closed. He looked behind him and wished he hadn’t. The creature, Thomas, was getting closer and closer.

  At the last possible second, the door was finally forced opened and Cameron and Doyle fell out of the house, into the bright California noontime.

  “Get to the sunlight!” Doyle gasped.

  Thomas reached out to grab at Doyle’s leg, but the canopy of the front porch was full of holes and spots of sunlight poured through, hitting and causing Thomas’ skin to crisp and smoke. He backed away looking at Cameron as he pulled Doyle farther away.

  “You won’t live long enough to defeat me. The Master is coming. The Master is coming.” The thing then receded into the house, smiling its inhuman smile.

  Doyle rested on the park bench, pulled out a gold cigarette case, and took out a black, slender cigarillo. He lit it and took a long draw off it before looking at Cameron.

  “Welcome to the real shit, boy.”

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “That was a ghoul. A ghost that eats human flesh and blood.” He stopped, coughed for a long moment, then pulled out a small orange pill bottle. He knocked out a tablet and jammed it under his tongue.

  “How is that even possible? What was that really?”

  The man looked at Cameron and gave a smile. “How is it that some of us can see ghosts, but others can’t? How is it that salt and iron affects them? How is it that artificial light can keep them at bay while sunlight is poison? Fuck if I know.” He let out a small sigh. “That was nitro for my heart.”

  “And you are smoking?”

  “Don’t get indignant, boy. I saved your ass. I can indulge.”

  Cameron looked at the man and took a breath. “Ok, so you are saying that that thing was once a ghost?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he ate human flesh and blood and now can interact like a human?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he is stronger, faster, and wants to eat more?”

  “Well, probably developed a taste for it, and he wants to convert others as well.”

  “There are others?” Cameron asked, throwing his hands up.

  The man nodded. Then he began to cough again, longer and harder. “And you are not alone either. Others of your kind and all that shit. Come along.”

  Cameron looked around. “Where’s Michelle?”

  “Who?” Doyle asked.

  “Ghost that came in with me.”

  Doyle shrugged. “Only saw you and Thomas. C’mon, we need to go.”

  In a daze, Cameron followed.

  Cameron followed Doyle to his car, a black Cadillac that looked like it was held together with hopes and bailing wire. Cameron looked at Doyle. “Really? You drive this?”

  “There isn’t much money in what we do, boy. Now get in the fucking car. Now!”

  Cameron pulled open the door, sat down, and slammed it shut. Doyle grumbled and gave Cameron a few looks that made Cameron feel afraid to be alone in the car with him.

  “So, how long have you been able to see ghosts?”

  “Most of my life,” Cameron said. “About seven or so. Why?”

  “Curious. Few people are born to it. And, if you are born with the gift, you have other powers as well. Like Maggie. Others… Well, others have some traumatic event happen that causes it.”

  Cameron looked outside. Watching the houses roll by, he realized they were heading towards an industrial complex off Anaheim. They passed the old West Coast Choppers and turned into an alley on the edge of the L.A. River. “Where are we going?”

  “Told you, to meet the others. So, what happened to you? Who died?”

  Cameron felt his blood turn to water. He tried to clear a sudden lump in his throat. “I don’t want-”

  “So, close family. Dad?”

  “I’m not playing this-”

  “Mother?”

  Cameron was quiet. Very quiet. He looked at Doyle, who was smiling a little, pulling out the lighter of the car to spark up another cigarette. “At least roll down the-”

  Doyle pulled away from him, “No.” He then lit the thing and started to smoke. Cameron sniffed the air a few times. “Is that pot?” He shook his head not realizing how out of it he was that he couldn’t recognise a joint.

  ““Yep,” Doyle said. He took a big pull and held it for a few moments. “Glaucoma…”

  “Uh-huh.” Cameron leaned back in the thick leather seat. The car was plodding along, and though it wasn’t fast, it was nice and cozy. He felt his eyes start to close on their own accord. “Hey, why is it so warm in here?”

  “The AC is blasting. What are you talking about?”

  Cameron looked at Doyle, and his vision was hazy. “It is so hot.” He pulled at his t-shirt, feeling it was wet and sticky. He looked down at his hands, and they were red with blood. “Oh…”

  “Fucking shit,” Doyle shouted. He yanked the car over to the side and reached for Cameron. The last thing Cameron saw was Doyle groping for him, his tobacco-stained teeth and breath jumped to sharp focus for a second. “Lord, don’t take this boy. You hear me, you prick?” And then Cameron was out.

  Maggie looked up sharply from the makeshift desk as her grandfather brought in a bundle of something.

  “Dammit, we need a healer. Where is Helga?”

  “Out,” Maggie said. She stood up and started to walk over.

  “Stay there, you need to keep loo
king for info on Jason and what-”

  “Doyle, Jason’s dead. Thomas killed him.”

  “Fuck,” Doyle said, laying his burden down. Maggie was beside him, looking at the youth.

  “What happened?”

  “Thomas happened. That fucking, sodding ghoul. I swear I’m-”

  “Doyle, shut it,” Maggie said. She put a hand on her grandfather’s shoulder. “Let me do what I can.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Doyle moved away from her, sat down heavily, and put his head in his hands.

  Maggie turned to look the boy over. He was bleeding from a thick cut along his back. She peeled back the ruins of his shirt and saw the thick, ragged gash of a ghoul claw. It was already festering. “Dammit Doyle, why didn’t you check-”

  “He was fine, and I had to tangle with Thomas by myself. Helga was supposed to be my backup, but no. She had to deal with that other ghost.”

  “She is doing something vital as well,” Maggie said. She was at the cabinet of the healing herbs, putting together a list in her head. If we only had some meds as well, these herbs will… She stopped that line of thought. She wasn’t a med student now. She had seen what Helga could do with these herbs and knew that they worked. Yet, Helga wasn’t here and this kid was going to die.

  “You have to do something, Mags. Without him, we are fucked,” Doyle said.

  “Thanks, Doyle, no pressure right?”

  She risked a look, heard the spark of his zippo, and sighed. “Really, with your health?”

  He waved her off and kept smoking. Then he got up and walked away from the two.

  Maggie turned her attention to her patient. She pulled a few of the herbs and started to grind them together in a mortar and pestle. She pulled off the shirt, tossed it aside, and got out holy water and bandages. She dribbled some of the blessed liquid on the wound. The was a hiss of steam, and some of the blackness turned into untainted flesh. She wetted a handful of bandages and took the kid’s shoulder. “This is going to hurt,” she whispered to the unconscious youth. She started to scour away the black with holy water and the bandages. The kid woke up screaming. Then he fell back asleep as the herbs worked away at the wound.

  He was completely surrounded by gray. Like he was in a fog. Cameron looked around, smelling something strange. Something off. There was stuff in the air that choked him, yet he wasn’t sure what it was. He held up a hand and felt flakes of ash fall onto his skin. Ash? Where am I? He started to look around, realizing that the fog was actually a thick layer of ash he was walking through. He coughed more and more as he kicked up clouds of it as he moved.