The Ghost, the Girl, and the Gold

by Scott William Carter

  Alesha was in a room not far away, getting checked out by a doctor on staff. Though I'd been permitted to see her only briefly, I was relieved to see that she was all right—except for her lack of memory, which terrified her. She didn't remember a thing from the moment we'd gathered in John Ray's apartment after his death. To the rest of us, it was Sunday afternoon, three days before Christmas, but to her it was still Thursday.

  Nothing about the shootout at the cemetery. Nothing about why we were at the hospital. Nothing about me telling her about my ghostly abilities. Nothing about … our kiss.

  I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

  I told them Mia must have hit Alesha on the head, even if the doctor saw no signs of physical trauma. What else could explain her memory loss? The interrogation—they called it questioning, but it felt an interrogation—went on for hours, though several cups of bad coffee, a dozen donuts, and even some Subway sandwiches. Again and again, they had me repeat the story, and again and again, I stuck to the same lines. Security video corroborated at least part of my story: Mia's escape and my pursuit. I was fortunate that they hadn't identified the body of the twin in Salem yet, since he apparently had no ID on him. I didn't know what was happening with the body of the twin at the cemetery, but sooner or later their appearances alone would connect them together. I just hoped it was later.

  Eventually, with afternoon light in the tall, barred window waning, they said I could go for now, so long as I promised not to leave the state until this matter was cleared up. I asked about Alesha, but she'd already been taken to Salem Memorial Hospital for more tests, and most likely an overnight stay. The doctors wanted to make sure she hadn't suffered some kind of concussion or other injury they hadn't been able to detect. She wasn't out of the woods yet.

  I was just hitting the ignition button on the Prius, planning to go visit her, when my cell phone rang.

  It was Jak.

  * * *

  They were holed up in the basement of a dental office on Twelfth Street, two miles away. Per Jak's instruction, I parked at Willamette University and walked. A bearded old man dressed in a camel-hair blazer and red bow tie, sitting on a bench and smoking a pipe, gaped at me as I passed. A dead professor, I guessed. I wanted to ask him if tenure extended even into the afterlife, but I held my tongue. The parking lot of Groves Family Dentistry, an old house that had been renovated and dolled up, bright blue paint and white shutters, was empty. I found the basement door in the back, nobody around, the windows all dark. The little sign on the door read EMPLOYEES ONLY. I tried it and found it unlocked.

  Rickety stairs led down into darkness, though I thought I detected faint daylight. I shut the door behind me and descended into what appeared to be an unfinished basement, the air musty and cold, finding another door at the bottom partially open. Daylight emanated from the crack. I opened the door and found filing cabinets, cardboard boxes, and green plastic totes sitting on a bare concrete floor, all under a ceiling low enough it brushed the top of my hair.

  "Hi, handsome," Jak said.

  I turned and there she was, leaning against an exposed beam, the daylight from the small, high window making her hair seem blonder than it should have in a room engulfed by shadows and darkness. Strangely, there was an old couch next to her, a green plaid thing that would have fit better in a poor college student's apartment than in the basement of a dentist's office—and Olivia was just now sitting up from lying on it, rubbing her eyes. Or someone who looked a lot like Olivia. She looked so different.

  If I passed this new Olivia on the street, I probably wouldn't have recognized her. The biggest change was her hair. It had been cut pixie short and dyed red. Jak must have gone out for clothes, or found them somewhere, because Olivia wore black tights and a gray hoodie sweatshirt over a white shirt. She still looked older than nine, but at least she looked healthier now.

  "Wow," I said. "That's quite a transformation."

  Jak shrugged. "Seemed like the thing to do. Too many pictures of her out there in the media now."

  "So you went to the store?"

  "Yep. For clothes, supplies, food."

  "How did you get there?"

  "Took a cab."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yep. Nobody's looking for me, Myron. So it's no big deal."

  I detected something in the air, a familiar burnt grass odor. It wasn't fresh, but it was still present. "Do I smell—?" I began.

  "You do," Jak said.

  "Weed?"

  "I'm guessing the good dentist sometimes comes down here when he needs a little break. Found his stash in the bottom drawer of one of the cabinets."

  "Ah," I said.

  I approached them, Jak and me embracing. Because of the shadows masking Olivia's face, it wasn't until I got a little closer that I saw that the skin around her eyes was puffy and pink. She met my gaze for a moment, then looked at the floor.

  "I already told her," Jak explained.

  I didn't have to ask her what she meant. Olivia had obviously been through a lot, but this was a new shock. I felt a pique of irritation, wanting to spare Olivia this pain until later, but I knew Jak probably felt she had no choice.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know your father very long, but I do know he loved you very much."

  She nodded, trying to tough it out, but those knockout green eyes of hers were brimming with tears. She held them back as long as she could, but when the waterworks came, they came in full force. I stood by helplessly, useless in these situations, and was relieved when Jak sat next to her on the couch and put her arm around her, pulling her close. We waited while she took little shuddering breaths. Outside, maybe a block away, a train rumbled past. I heard the big wheels scraping and screeching along the tracks, and it was close enough I felt the vibrations through the floor.

  "I'm sorry," Olivia said.

  "You're sorry?" I said. "Jesus, don't be. You cry all you want. It's totally fine."

  "I know," she said. "It's just, I didn't think … you know, I'd be all alone like this."

  Jak hugged her again. "You're not alone. I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

  There was something about Jak's promise, the tone, which made me feel a mild foreboding. Olivia winced and rubbed her temple.

  "Voices again?" Jak asked.

  "Yeah. They've been bad. It's been getting worse, not being able to shut them out."

  I took the glasses out of my pocket and handed them to Olivia. It was funny how easily I did it, without any internal debate. It was simple, really. She was suffering and the glasses might help. There was never any thought to keeping them for myself when I realized what they could do for her.

  She hesitated, looking at me. I looked at Jak, who nodded.

  "Yeah, I told her about that, too," she said. "About you having them, I mean. She already knew about the glasses."

  "I didn't know they were glasses," Olivia said. "I mean, I kind of did, because I had this … I don't know, dream sense about them. From the crows. Even drugged like Gath had me, I could still kind of connect to animals through dreams. But before we moved out here? I didn't even know they were gold, not really. I just … I don't know, it's hard to explain. Sometimes I just get feelings. I had this feeling there was something in Portland that could help me. Are you sure you want me to have them?"

  "Yes."

  "They could help you, too."

  "So you know about that as well, huh?"

  Jak shrugged. "You were gone a long time, and she had a lot of questions. After everything, I think she deserved some answers."

  "It's fine, really," I said. And to Olivia, I added, "Go ahead. Put them on."

  With some hesitancy, she did. The effect was profound. If she'd been injected with heroin, the transformation couldn't have been any more sudden. She sat upright, face brightening, her whole demeanor changing from someone beaten down by everything that had happened to someone overwhelmed by the possibility of a better life—one that hadn't even been available to her two minut
es earlier.

  Her eyes welled up with tears again, but this time there was no sorrow when she spoke, only joy. "The animals," she said. "Their thoughts—they're gone."

  "So the glasses are working," I said.

  "And the other thing—this … this buzz in the background, like lots of voices all talking at once … that's gone too. That's something that just started up lately. It was getting louder. I didn't know how much louder it could get. How much louder I could stand. After what Jak said, I thought maybe they were ghosts, but there's so many of them, like, like bees buzzing or something. Do you know—do you know what that is?"

  She sounded frightened, even asking about it. I suspected I did know what that buzzing was, and the thought so unsettled me that I felt a chill. That was saying something, because it took a lot these days to spook me.

  "It might be the Unbound," I said.

  "The what?"

  I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "So we finally have something Jak didn't tell you."

  "Hey," Jak said, "it's not like we've been here a week or something. And honestly, that whole Unbound thing is so weird I wasn't even sure how to explain it."

  "Please," Olivia said. "I've got to know."

  So I told her what Elvis had told me, that the Unbound was a sort of primordial soul soup, the place or thing or whatever where all the people who eventually live emerge. I told her that apparently even ghosts don't like to talk about it, since it's just as much a mystery to them as death is a mystery to most of the living. I told her that there was still something alive about the Unbound, something with some form of consciousness, because they'd talked to me, given me that strange poem that eventually led me to her.

  "So," Olivia said, "they wanted to help me."

  "Maybe," I said. "Or maybe they have a larger purpose that we don't understand."

  Olivia nodded and stared at the floor, her eyes, behind those thick lenses, large and clouded with doubt. The glasses, with those big funky black frames, were a nice addition to her new appearance. They made her look like a kid who'd just stepped off the bus from Comic-Con. Unique and proud of it. In some ways, it fit her better than her old appearance, since Olivia Ray was certainly unique.

  "So what do we do now?" she asked.

  "That's the million-dollar question," I said. "But don't worry, you're not going to be on your own. We're going to figure this out together. I'll make a few calls. Talk to some people. There will be a way to give you—"

  "I've got another idea," Jak said.

  We both looked at her. That odd tone in her voice I'd heard earlier, the one that gave me some inexplicable cause to worry, was back. Briefly, she met my eyes, but then looked hurriedly away. Then, just at that moment, I heard a train whistle in the distance, approaching or leaving, it was hard to say, and it would have just been an unremarkable coincidence except I saw the way Jak ever so slightly cocked her to the side. As if listening for it. As if waiting for it.

  "No," I said.

  She looked back up at me, and when she spoke her voice had a strained, choked quality. "It's the best way, Myron. She needs a fresh start, and she can't do it alone."

  "On the train?"

  "To start, sure. The station's only a few blocks from here. You don't even need ID. No stupid TSA. You just buy your tickets and climb aboard."

  "I'll go with you."

  She smiled. "I knew you'd say that, and I love you for it. But you know that won't work. If people are looking for her, or the glasses, the first thing they'll do is look for you. The Department also won't let this rest. It's got to be just the two of us."

  "Wait," Olivia said. "I'm confused. I don't want you guys to break up over this. That's not right."

  "It's not break—breaking up," Jak said, though the hitch in her voice clearly said otherwise. "I mean, I guess it is. For now. It's just what has to be done." When Olivia started to protest, Jak cut her off. "Listen, I was an orphan, too. My parents were a lot more messed up than yours, but I still know what it's like to be a kid and on your own. I'm not letting you go through that. You need somebody who knows your special situation, somebody who can help you. I'm going to be that person."

  My face felt warm, my throat tight. This wasn't an outcome I'd ever anticipated. Christmas was three days away, and the woman I loved, the woman I'd been intending to marry, was abandoning me. "Where will you go?" I asked.

  "I don't know yet. I don't know if I should tell you."

  "Christ, Jak. What a thing to say."

  She leapt to her feet, coming to me. She put her arms on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. I'd spent so much time gazing into those eyes the last year that it was hard to imagine not doing so again, at least not in the foreseeable future.

  "I only meant it's not safe if you know," she explained. "If you don't know, then you can't tell anyone how to find us."

  "You know I wouldn't—"

  "I know you wouldn't intentionally tell anyone, Myron. But if we've learned anything lately, it's that there are people who can take things from our minds even without our permission."

  Behind Jak, Olivia shook her head so forcefully that I thought the glasses might fly off. "No. I'm not letting you guys break up over this."

  For a long moment, neither Jak nor I said a word, just went on staring into each other's eyes. Then, without even consciously meaning to do it, I felt my right hand drift downward, toward the ring in my pocket. Before it got there, Jak grabbed my hand and brought it to her face, cupping my palm against her cheek. Her skin felt as hot as someone with a fever, but I wasn't sure if the heat was coming from her or me. My pounding heart told me it might be me. Did she know what I was planning to ask her? I thought she did. I couldn't believe, after being so ready to ask her to spend the rest of our lives together, that we'd somehow arrived at this moment instead. Saying goodbye in the basement of a dentist's office? It didn't seem possible.

  "We're not breaking up," Jak said, looking at me, but it seemed like an answer more for Olivia.

  "Okay," I said.

  "It's temporary."

  "Sure."

  "After we get settled—"

  "Yes. Somehow."

  "Just give us some time."

  "No problem."

  I saw that Jak was having a hard time keeping it together. I was too. Olivia couldn't see either of our faces, and I was glad. It gave us a moment to regain our composure, so when Olivia started to object again, saying this was wrong, she didn't want to be the reason we couldn't be together, I was able to forcefully tell her in no uncertain terms that we—Jak and I both—were going to help her, that this was the best way, and that sometimes love required some sacrifices. If she didn't want to cheapen those sacrifices, then she should shut up already, because no matter what she said, this was what we were going to do because we cared about her.

  That put her in her place, but not in a bad way. It was clear Olivia really didn't want to be alone, but her conscience was giving her a hard time accepting Jak's plan.

  "You're going to be in a good hands with Jak," I said. "But I also need you to take care of her, okay? You need take care of each other. Can you do that for me? I'm counting on you."

  Olivia nodded, now appropriately chastened. Perhaps too chastened, because I didn't want her meekly falling into some sort of submissive role, but I knew Jak wouldn't let that happen either.

  "Good," I said. "Now, I have one more way of helping you guys. There's a hundred thousand dollars hidden in a plastic tote, buried near Mt. Hood. I want you to have it. Or half, anyway. The other half you have to promise to donate to the Portland Zoo."

  It took some explaining. I told them about Al, the ghost with some guilt regarding his drug-dealing past. I gave Jak the location and told her not to get it now, but maybe in a few weeks or a few months. Whenever they needed the money. I joked that maybe she could use her treasure-hunting trip as an opportunity to visit me, maybe take me out to dinner with her newfound booty.

  The old Jak would hav
e surely made a joke that involved the double meaning of the word booty, but she only smiled and looked sad. That was when I knew she really wasn't coming back, at least not anytime soon.

  We said our goodbyes. There were tears. There was a passionate kiss. There was a long, lingering moment as I stood halfway up the wooden stairs, Jak at the bottom. Then, feeling like I was wrenching a joint out of socket, I turned and walked up the stairs into the cold. I walked to the Prius at the back of an empty lot, all the students and all the faculty at Willamette University surely at home with people who loved them. It was nearly Christmas, after all.

  Chapter 24

  It was almost eleven o'clock at night before they released Alesha. I was in the waiting room at Salem Memorial Hospital, trying to get comfortable in an orange plastic chair that seemed designed for maximum discomfort, when she appeared in front of me, pulling down my magazine with her finger. I put down the wrinkled copy of People—I'd been trying to read the same stupid article about the British royal family for the better part of an hour, none of the words sticking—and I must have drifted into a half-dozing state. It was only partly due to exhaustion. The other part was emotional shock. I still couldn't believe Jak was gone.

  Alesha, however, was very much here, appearing no worse for wear in her black trench coat, eyes bright, even smiling a bit. There was something behind the smile, confusion or hurt, it was hard to say, but she wasn't entirely herself.

  "Hey you," Alesha said.

  "Hey yourself," I said. "I thought they were going to keep you overnight for observation?"

  "There were no signs of injury, so it seems stupid. I don't care if I can't remember anything. I'm not just sitting around a hospital waiting for my memory to come back."