Ghosts on a Plane

by M. L. Bullock

  “Be quiet,” I whispered as if hiding from them would help.

  Tap, tap.

  “Heathcliff, open the door, hurry up.” I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. It wasn’t Antoinette. It was my little sister Gloria, who’d been dead for fifteen years.

  “Gloria?” Her name fell from my lips, and my heart leaped in my chest. Only she called me Heathcliff. It wasn’t my name, but she thought it was funny to call me by the name of her favorite cartoon cat. I wanted it to be her. More than anything, I wanted it to be her.

  “Open up, big brother. I have to tell you a secret.”

  “Gloria.”

  The captain called to me, “Whoever you think that is, it’s not her. It’s not anyone you know. Don’t open that door, or we’re all doomed!”

  Bonnie touched my arm. “He’s right, Heath. Don’t trust it. It’s a spirit, an evil spirit. You have to realize, for whatever reason, there are ghosts on this plane. Ghosts that want to kill us.”

  “Heathcliff,” Gloria whispered more urgently. Her voice sounded sad and low as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her. God, how could it be her? It sounded so much like her. “Please, open up. I have to talk to you before he comes.”

  I flattened my hands on the door and leaned against it. Tears came to my eyes as dark memories flooded my mind.

  “You know why he’s here. You know what he said, Heathcliff. You’ve always known. Remember? I told you. I warned you.”

  Now the memories came back like evil birds, circling my mind, threatening to pluck out anything good left in me. I didn’t want to remember, but I had to. How had I forgotten this? How could I have ever forgotten this? That weekend at the lake house with Uncle Alistair. How he’d shown me the stones, let me hold them. Father had never known about the stones; he wouldn’t understand, Uncle Alistair had told me, his garlicky breath assaulting my nose.

  “Feel the stones, my boy. They sing to you, don’t they? They contain so much power. The blood of centuries has been soaked up, blood with so much power. These might be yours one day. You might own them and hold them. Just feel the power in them. Remember, if you own them, blood is required.”

  Gingerly at first, I turned the pieces of broken stone over in my hand, searching for their secrets. My young eyes didn’t detect anything unusual, but the skin on my hand tingled as if to testify to another truth.

  “Why are they so powerful? Are they like moonstone?” I asked my great-uncle, unable to stop looking at my prize. One side smooth, another rough. I traced the shimmering gold lines that ran through the pink stones. They would undoubtedly glitter beautifully in full sunlight. Maybe that’s what made them so powerful?

  My moonstone question received an impatient snort, and Uncle Alistair’s grasping fingers reclaimed the rocks. With a disgusted look, a look that told me how stupid he thought I was, he returned them to the black box with the red satin lining. Such a grotesque-looking box, I thought, to hold such beautiful stones.

  “This is all that’s left of our home, young Blake. This is all that remains of Blake Castle, a seat of immeasurable power, our family’s power. For more than five hundred years, the castle stood on the shores of the Course, a wet stretch of gray sand with nothing to offer the inhabitants in the way of protection from outside armies, thieves, and the like until the Blakes of Ulster came to the Course and made it our home. We made the place our home and protected the Course, asking only for the occasional gift. Over the centuries, many sought to conquer the glittering castle. How those men longed to conquer us.” He laughed drily as if he were summoning up a memory rather than telling a family legend. “But Blake Castle withstood all comers, even those with more prestigious names than ours. We were never vanquished by our enemies.”

  “Where is this castle? And if these stones come from it, how can it be that we have never been defeated?”

  He chuckled, an unnatural sound. His mouth opened and laughter came, but it was disjointed. It sounded as if he’d never tried laughing before. Or maybe it was his age. How old was my great-uncle? He looked ancient, at least seventy or eighty years old. Maybe even a hundred. I wondered if even Father knew the truth.

  “No man defeated Blake Castle. Nature tore her down. An earthquake shook the Course all those years ago, three hundred years ago now. It shook the stones, and they fell upon almost all of us.” His yellow teeth showed, and they looked bloody. I couldn’t stop staring at them. “Aren’t you listening?” He slammed the box and latched it shut before turning his full attention to me. “This is all that remains,” he said, gesturing to two crates I presumed were filled with more stones. “One day, if you earn the right, you will be the keeper of the stones and the heir to their power.”

  I wanted to hear more about the castle, about what it all meant, but I dreaded angering my great-uncle further.

  “Now I will teach you the words. You have to speak them.” He sat in a leathery black chair, as black as the box that rested beside him on the table.

  “I want to be the keeper of the stones. What should I do?” In that impetuous moment, I believed I did. I wanted to claim Blake Castle, or whatever was left of it. I wanted those stones, even if they were crumbling, because I believed they were full of power.

  With an approving smile, he waved me closer to him. I prayed he wouldn’t hug me, but I needn’t have worried. Uncle Alistair was not an affectionate man, not in the least. He leaned his head down near the box latch. Tapping his ear, he said, “Listen, Heath Blake. What do you hear? Or is your hearing dull like your brain?”

  Ignoring the insult, I did as he asked. I leaned down next to the ugly black box and shivered. At first, I heard nothing, only the ticking of the clock behind me and my great-uncle breathing over my shoulder. But then I heard the first whisper, then a moan, and then a muffled scream, then two whispers, more screams, the screams of a multitude.

  “Uncle!” I could hardly believe the horrible sounds coming from the box.

  “Be silent and listen. You will hear them, the souls trapped in the stones. It’s their blood you hear, their blood that keeps the stones strong. And the stones will make you strong, boy.”

  Frightened, I whimpered and tried to push away from the box, but Uncle Alistair held me close. His savage grasp was nothing compared to the whispers in my ears.

  “I was there the day the stones fell, young Blake. I saw them fall, and I lived! I watched the stones pound my family to death. We angered God, for we’d laid the foundation of our castle on the bones and blood of those who served us.” He held me tight and wouldn’t let me go even though I began to cry. Something was about to happen, something bad. I just knew it!

  Run, Heath! Run away now! My mind screamed its warning, but my feet would not move, and my great-uncle held me by the arms.

  “Oh, don’t be afraid, boy. You’re a Blake, a true Blake too, by the look of you. Listen to the stones. As long as they scream, they are powerful. When they go silent, you must bring them what they desire, or they will find their precious blood another way.”

  “What way is that?” I asked with a sick feeling in my stomach. I wanted to vomit, being so close to Uncle Alistair.

  “Why, more blood, of course. Even yours, if that’s all there is. Words were spoken long ago. A deal was made in that ancient henge. We promised, and we must deliver. If you want this power, blood will always be required. Say it with me, that’s a good boy. Sanguis eius exquiritur. And oh, what this power will bring you, boy. You will live a long life, love all the women you want, and have all the money you want. But make no mistake. Sanguis eius exquiritur.”

  And I’d said it. I shivered at the memory.

  Gloria heard us. She’d been spying on us, and she knew and understood more than I did.

  She came to me afterward, down by the lake. Tears in her eyes, hands shaking. “I’ve seen him kill birds. He pinches me. He’ll make you evil like he is, Heathcliff. Don’t listen to him! Why did you say those words?” She cried in earnest then, heartbroken that I would do such
a horrible thing. I felt horrible too. “Now you’re cursed with his magic!” she cried as she scolded me. I didn’t want to listen to her, and more than that, I was angry she’d heard our secret conversation. I was ashamed that I’d spoken those words. No! I couldn’t say it again! Surely, our great-uncle’s stories were sheer nonsense. The secret words. This couldn’t be true. Uncle Alistair and his scary old stories. Could the stones need blood now? Was that what I was being asked to do? Bring blood to the stones, give them blood? How did my great-uncle propose I do that? Gloria had to be wrong! She had to be!

  I was fifteen, she was ten. I was a guy, she was just a girl. A silly, stupid girl who was always spying on me, always following me, my tag-along.

  I’d called her as much and worse that day, the day she died. I’d walked away from her. I left her on the shore and refused to listen to her cry anymore. My blood boiled, knowing she’d invaded my space. Because of my anger, she drowned. We found her later, floating in the water, about a half-mile from the cabin, her dark hair a horribly tangled cloud around her face.

  I put my hand on the freezing doorknob.

  Bonnie shouted at me, “Don’t open it!”

  But I had to.

  I had to see. I had to know.

  17

  Bonnie Overton

  The door popped open, and standing outside was a round-faced little girl with soft brown hair and even softer-looking brown eyes wearing blue shorts and a floral halter top. This wasn’t a trick, it wasn’t horrible Antoinette or one of the other ghosts on the plane. I didn’t know who she was, but I assumed she was someone Heath knew. I knew her too, or at least I’d seen her before. She was the little girl from my nightmares, the one who led me by the hand down the long hallway on the burning plane. My hand flew to my mouth as I watched in horror. This couldn’t be real. How was this possible?

  “Gloria?” he said, squatting in front of her. She nodded once and stared at him with the saddest expression I’d ever seen on a young child’s face. Suddenly, she hugged him. I didn’t know how this was happening, but she actually hugged him, like she was a flesh-and-blood girl. The captain swore behind us as he continued to search for a way around the cloud. I glanced at him and then at Heath, unsure of what to do.

  Heath began to cry as he held her. “I’m sorry, Gloria. I’m sorry for everything. I should never have left you that day. It’s all my fault.”

  She stroked his hair with her pale hand and said in a wise voice, “There, there, brother. It’s going to be all right. You know what you have to do. You have to do it. It’s the only way.”

  “I will do whatever it takes, Gloria. I love you. Please forgive me!”

  She pushed away from him as Antoinette’s wobbly cart clanked nearby. God, that meant she was coming back!

  “Heath, we have to go!” I shouted.

  “Gloria!” Heath began to cry as his sister faded before our eyes. At the last second, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear and then gave me a heartbreaking smile before vanishing. The cart clanked down the aisle, and I could hear the tiny bottles of booze tinkling and Antoinette’s voice offering drinks to the nonexistent passengers.

  Heath ran back into the cockpit. “Captain, please tell me how I can gain access to the baggage hold. I need to get that cargo off this plane. It’s nothing radioactive or poisonous. It’s some stones, cursed stones that belonged to my family. I think they are what’s attracting these spirits. If I can get them off here, I think we’ll get rid of the ghosts, and you can land this plane on Rachel Island. Tell me, what do I do?”

  Without missing a beat, the captain shook his head. “This is a terrible idea. You go opening doors, and the cargo hold will depressurize. You could destabilize the whole plane, and if that happens, I don’t know if I could do anything about it.”

  Heath smacked the display. “If I don’t drop those stones, we’re going to die! Do you hear me? We’re going to die! They are cursed! I’m cursed! I have to get rid of them.”

  I believed him. Heath didn’t seem like the kind of guy to say such things unless he absolutely believed it, and his explanation was as good as any I had. I suspected the captain agreed. “Please, Captain. We have to try.” I said softly.

  “Do you know which hold they put the crates in? There are two holds on this plane.”

  “I saw them load them, uh, at the back of the plane, on the left side.”

  The captain sighed. “The only way to access that hold is through the cabin. If you go to the back of the plane, into the curtained supply station, you’ll find an access panel. It’s hidden under the carpet because it’s not supposed to be opened while we’re in flight. Remove the carpet, it comes off in squares, and then you can open the hatch. That part takes two people. Once you open the hatch, you’ll be able to climb down. There’s a ladder.”

  “Any lights down there?” Heath asked nervously.

  “Yes, it’s lighted, but be careful. Luggage can shift and fall if you aren’t paying attention.”

  I heard the squeaking wheels again. Antoinette was on the move!

  “I think that’s the least of my worries, Captain.”

  “Hurry up, Heath!”

  “One last question: how do I unload the cargo?” Heath sat in the copilot’s chair and ran his hands through his hair.

  “You’ll have to open the cargo bay door. There’s a red button on the wall. But before you do that, secure yourself with a luggage strap and hold on to the netting. The cabin is pressurized, but the minute you open that door, all hell is going to break loose. If you aren’t tied to the plane, you’ll be gone. You got it?”

  “I got it. Thanks, Captain.”

  “I don’t know if I believe what you’re saying, but if it gets us home, I am willing to have a little faith. Please hurry. If we end up in that cloud, all bets are off. That’s where the real bad stuff is, I can feel it.”

  “Got it!”

  Heath started to leave, but I grabbed his hand. “You need help, and I’m not letting you go alone.”

  “Stay close,” he said in a whisper.

  We raced out of the cockpit.

  18

  Gregory Lawless

  “Flight 1199, this is Townsend Tower.”

  Grappling with the mic as if my life depended on it, I snatched it up and slung on the headphones. “God! This is Flight 1199, Townsend. Approaching Rachel Island. I have an anomaly on my radar screen, and the plane’s computer system has gone haywire. Can you find me an alternate route?”

  “What’s your fuel look like, Captain?”

  With a grimace, I tapped on the gas gauge, as if it would help. The digital readout said twelve percent. “I’m on twelve percent, guys. What about a Plan B?” They’d know what I was referring to. I basically asked them to take control of the plane from the ground. Putting this baby on autopilot might work. If they could guide us in, it would save some fuel and keep us moving in the right direction. As it stood now, I was flying blind.

  “That’s not an option, Captain. Not at this airfield. Take the plane south ten degrees, swing around, and enter the landing field from the west. Can you do that?”

  Before I could answer, I heard a snakelike voice beside me say, “Oh yeah, we can do that. Can’t we, Captain?” I turned my head to see Desi sitting in his seat like a wooden dummy, a slack grin on his face. His head hung off his body at a weird angle, and his hands were covered in blood. He flipped switches and smiled even wider, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.

  “Desi?” I gagged, trying not to pass out.

  “We can do that, can’t we, Captain? Yes, sir, we can!”

  “Townsend?” I yelled into the mic just as Desi fell to the ground. For a moment, he didn’t move, but then he began to crawl toward me, his head lifted, his dead eyes watching me. His grin was slack, but he was determined to reach me. He spoke again, but it wasn’t his voice now.

  It was Julie’s. “Daddy, I told you to let me in. I’m in now, Daddy. I’m in.”

 
; As he got closer, all I could do was watch.

  19

  Bonnie Overton

  Finding the access panel was easier than I expected, and surprisingly, we saw no sign of Antoinette. It was like everything was in a holding pattern, waiting for the plane to fly into the cloud. All the ghosts would be waiting for us there. It was as if they’d done all they could do for the moment and needed more power from that cursed cloud, that and Heath’s cargo.

  “What is the deal with this cargo? Did you know this was going to happen, Heath?”

  He kicked his legs into the open hole and shook his head. “I swear to you, I had no idea this would happen. I would never knowingly put a plane full of people in danger, not for anything. We don’t have much time, Bonnie. I need to get down there. I can’t ask you to go. Stay here and keep watch for me. If you have to, close the hatch behind me. I don’t want to depressurize the plane.”

  “No, I can’t do that.”

  “You’ll have to.” The ladder wobbled beneath him. One wrong step and he’d fall off that thing.

  For some reason, I kissed him. “For luck.” For the first time since the very beginning of this horrible flight, he smiled. “Be careful.” I heard his shoes tap on the ladder as he began to climb down. The lights flickered below as if there were a short in the electrical system, but I very much doubted there was. This was no coincidence. Then the lights flickered topside. I whispered down, “We must be getting close to the cloud. Hurry! I hear Antoinette coming!” The cart was coming down the aisle. I lay on the floor quietly and watched as it stopped about ten feet away—waiting, but for what?

  The plane shuddered harder than before, and the lights flickered again. I wasn’t alone now. There was someone walking toward me. Slowly, steadily. Oh God, now he was standing on the other side of the curtain. I could see dirty bare feet, bare legs, a man’s legs. He had dirty sandals on his feet. He was dead, I was sure of it! I reached for my crucifix and held it in my fingers as I clamped my lips together to stifle a cry. The plane shook again, just like before, when we hit turbulence, only this time, it didn’t stop for a full minute. I wanted to call down to Heath to see if he’d survived the cascade of falling luggage. I could hear it being tossed around but didn’t hear him. I closed my eyes and waited for the aircraft to stop shaking. Images from my nightmares flashed through my mind, burning tires and people screaming.