by H. P. Bayne
All Sully had to do was stay hidden long enough.
Mind made up, he sprinted across the frozen creek and disappeared between the trees on the other side.
19
“I’m sorry.”
Dez’s already-frayed nerves jumped at the unexpected sound. Lachlan’s words had been spoken into an otherwise-silent vehicle, radio off, city disappearing behind them into the dark.
Dez turned to catch Lachlan’s eye in the glow from the dashboard. “For what?”
“I got him into this. I didn’t peg O’Keefe as the killer, and now ….”
Lachlan didn’t finish the statement. Didn’t have to. Dez knew where it was supposed to go, and he didn’t want to hear the words out loud either.
It occurred to him after another moment of silence that he should say something. “Not your fault.”
“I sent him there.”
“No, you didn’t. He went all on his own without letting us know.”
“Even so ….”
“Like you said, you didn’t know. Neither did I. Anyway, I realized some time ago Sully’s not a kid anymore. He’s smart, he’s resourceful, and he’s good in a fight. He’ll be okay.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
I am, Dez thought. He didn’t honour the words by saying them out loud. Because the reality was, good as Sully was, no one was quick enough or skilled enough to outrun a bullet.
The tail end of a train, its lights blinking in the dark, came into view just ahead. From here, it seemed to be stopped.
He didn’t have long to think about it. His phone ringing through the car’s Bluetooth system came up with Eva’s name. He pressed the talk button on his dash.
“Eva.”
“Dez, a call came in a couple of minutes ago from the Edge Creek crossing,” she said. “Train crew saw two men by the tracks. One of them ran in front of the train. The description matches Sully.”
Dez’s breath caught in his throat before he exhaled it through one desperate word, vocalized through a moan. “No.”
“No, honey, that’s not what I mean. He ran past it. They’re pretty sure they saw him on the other side of the tracks.”
The moment of sweet relief had been abruptly invaded. “Pretty sure?”
“We’ll know more once we get down there. Someone’s coming to relieve me at the rail yard. I’ll meet you at Edge Creek.”
“We’re almost there already.”
“How’d you know to go there?”
“You said surveillance tape showed O’Keefe driving east out of the parking lot.”
“Lots of stuff besides Edge Creek is east, Dez.”
“We had a hunch. O’Keefe killed one man out there already. If he was planning on doing something to Sully, we figured there was a chance it would be there. It’s quiet, no witnesses, and he probably figured, based on experience, he could make it look like something other than murder.”
“Fine, but here’s the problem: One of the crew members saw O’Keefe there tonight. I mean, they didn’t ID him or anything, but they saw a man with what looked to be a raised gun. What’s more, the guy’s certain he saw the flash of the firearm being discharged.”
“At Sully?”
“Yeah.”
“Any sign he was hit?”
“Not that he saw. We’ll know more when we get there.”
“Where’s O’Keefe now?”
“No one knows. The nine-one-one operator advised the crew to lock themselves inside and stay down until police arrive. Are the two of you armed?”
Dez once again met Lachlan’s eye. He received a desolate head shake in reply.
“No,” Dez said.
“Then I want you to stop wherever you are and wait.”
The spot lay ahead, the turnoff used by so many to witness the Edge Creek Light. “We’re almost at the crossing now.”
“Dez, I mean it. Pull over. Now.”
“I can’t, Eva. It’s Sully. If this clown is running after him with a gun, I need to help him.”
“You make for a much bigger target than Sully does, all right?”
The worry and the resulting exasperation were clear in her voice, and Dez wished he could do something to erase it.
He couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, babe. I don’t have a choice. I’ll stay in touch, all right?”
“Don’t say things that make it sound like you’re leaving me, you jerk. My relief is pulling up now. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep me posted on your location.”
“I’ll do my best. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Dez disconnected.
“That was touching,” Lachlan said. Dez had expected the ribbing, but his boss’s tone suggested his heart wasn’t in it. It didn’t take a genius to understand why.
O’Keefe’s car—it had to be his, given circumstance and the high-end make—was still sitting in the approach. Dez pulled in behind it and parked.
“I need to get in the habit of carrying my gun with me,” Lachlan said. “Little good it does in my lockbox at home.”
Dez shut off the car and pocketed the keys. “When we set out today, we weren’t expecting to find ourselves in pursuit of a murderous railway manager.”
“Exactly my point,” Lachlan said. “Expect the unexpected, Braddock, and you won’t be caught with your pants down. Let’s go.”
They exited the vehicle and approached the train stopped on the track. Dez gave the area a visual sweep, paying particular attention to the bushes. Nothing showed, but he did spot recent boot treads in the snow—two sets: Sully’s larger ones and a smaller set overlaying them, belonging to the man gunning for him.
Keeping his eyes peeled for the possibility of attack, Dez followed the trail until it reached the line. The train disappeared into the distance on either side, though Dez could see the front of it thanks to the high beam of the headlights. He found he was grateful for that, as it prevented a glimpse of the Edge Creek Light. He didn’t need to add a ghost to his existing list of worries.
Lachlan was a few steps behind, and he called out as Dez approached the train. “Braddock. Shell casing.”
Dez turned to find Lachlan crouched in the snow, flashlight from his cellphone illuminating something on the ground.
Dez didn’t return for a closer look. “Calibre?”
“Can’t tell without picking it up, and I don’t want to mess things up more for forensics. But it’s a larger calibre: forty, maybe a forty-four.”
“Fucking great,” Dez grumbled. Bad enough someone was out there trying to put a bullet in Sully. A slug that size would do a lot more damage than a .22 shot.
“Hey, one thing about calibre that big,” Lachlan said as he stood. “We’d be seeing blood, and plenty of it. I don’t see any, do you?”
It was a good point, and Dez was happy to concede. Of course, they hadn’t yet checked out the scene on the other side of the tracks.
He waited for Lachlan to join him before continuing on.
“Two sets of boot prints,” Lachlan said.
“I noticed. The bigger one here is Sully. You can see where he crossed over the line.”
Lachlan moved slightly to the left, where Dez saw the second set of tracks. It led toward a join between two cars.
“And this is where O’Keefe crossed.” He looked back and met Dez’s eye. “Come on, Braddock. Looks like we’re following suit.”
There were moments Sully missed having Pax at his side.
This was one of them.
The dog could turn even the most tense run into a game—plus his large mouth full of teeth made for some pretty effective backup.
Now all the backup Sully had was a ghost.
Tim stayed at his side as Sully jogged through the woods, tonight’s bright moon his only light. He found himself ruing the fact every step left a track, although he was doing what he could about it. Twice now, Sully had run a deliberate circle in an attempt to head Carson off if
he was following. Tim had come in particularly handy in those instances, standing still and providing the focal point Sully needed to return to.
He lost track of how long he’d been out here. He was cold as hell and his lungs were burning from a run in which he couldn’t take a full breath. Air this cold wasn’t made for breathing deep. Add in the fact his nose hairs felt like they’d frozen, keeping this pace up for much longer wasn’t a possibility. Not without a break, anyway.
Sully made it another minute or two before collapsing onto his knees in the snow. There, he placed a hand down to prop himself up while he heaved in breaths as deeply as he could. His heart was pounding, as much from anxiety as exertion, and he made a conscious effort to relax. With his pulse thudding a manic rhythm in his ears, he’d never be able to hear if Carson closed in.
He would rely on Tim for the warning. But as Sully sat back on his heels and looked up at the spirit, he realized with a start it might be too late.
Tim’s eyes widened in horror. Sully whipped his head around, expecting to find Carson, gun aimed and finger squeezing the trigger. What he saw instead scared him nearly as much.
The man in black, the one from the ghost train.
The reaper.
Sully leapt to his feet and moved to stand next to Tim. The reaper stood just metres away, gloved hands folded in front of him. While his head was bowed, eyes concealed beneath the expanse of his hat’s brim, Sully nonetheless had the unmistakable feeling he and Tim were being watched, studied, dissected even.
The question was, was he here for Tim? Or was he here for Sully?
Tim wasn’t taking any chances. One blink and he’d disappeared. Sully risked turning from the reaper long enough to look for his ghostly companion. He was still there, though some distance away, up a slight incline and standing next to a cluster of pine. Intending to check the position of the reaper before joining Tim, Sully turned back.
It stood directly in front of him.
Sully gave an involuntary gasp and took a step back, nearly falling on his ass. He managed to catch hold of a tree to right himself, then used momentum to spin before taking off in a dead run in Tim’s direction.
He was going too fast. He knew it. Navigating woodland obstacles while running in daylight was hard enough. Under the dark of night, the area became a minefield. Sully’s foot caught on something and brought him down hard. He wasn’t able to catch himself in time, not before his temple collided with what felt like rock. Blood spurted over stone and snow as Sully attempted to right himself. His vision spun as unconsciousness loomed, and standing seemed an impossible task.
He turned to find the reaper standing over him. Its shiny, coal-black eyes pierced Sully’s, sending a rush of dread through him.
One gloved hand reached down to his face, coming to rest alongside the side of his head, over the wound.
Sully expected a vision, maybe something worse. What he got instead was a lessening of his pain and a steadying of his vision.
And one word: “Run.”
A light appeared behind the reaper, to its left. A flashlight. A moment later, the beam was on him, shining through the reaper’s body.
Sully didn’t need the reaper to tell him twice. He flipped to hands and knees and shoved himself up, pushing off the rocky ground with one toe as he sought to close the distance to Tim.
A shot rang out. An earsplittingly loud crack in the quiet of the night woods. Something tore into the outer edge of Sully’s thigh, put him back down on the ground.
A moment later, the reaper was back, hand on his leg. Another dwindling of pain, and Sully was back up as a second bullet pinged off a rock at the spot where he’d just been lying.
Tim had moved farther ahead. Sully ran toward him.
Another bullet, this one clipping a tree to his right. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. To stop meant to die, and he had a feeling not even the reaper could repair him then.
God, what he wouldn’t give to get his old poltergeist buddy back now.
Another shot, this one feeling as if it had hit the heel of his boot. Again, he was knocked off his feet, but he caught himself before he went down completely, managing to miss another shot as it was fired.
He didn’t look back. There wasn’t time, and he didn’t want to see anyway.
All he could do now was run.
20
The sound of gunfire was unmistakable.
“Goddammit,” Dez snarled as he pushed through the trees. He’d left Lachlan behind a short distance back, not prepared to wait for the shorter man and risk precious moments in the process.
He heard sirens nearby. Eva. Another reason to get to the gunman quickly. One loved one being shot at was more than enough to deal with.
Another shot cracked. Like the others, it carried the possibility it was the sound of the end of Sully’s life.
Dez ran on.
A tree branch whipped at his face, nearly poking him in the eye as he focused on the ground. Footprints. As long as he saw the footprints, he knew he was on the right track.
He took as deep of a breath as he could manage and kept going.
Tim had led him to a particularly thick stand of trees. Sully dove in, barely registering the whip-like branches as they scratched at exposed skin. By now, the cold and the dread had numbed him to all else.
He moved in as deep as he could before once again collapsing, using the hollow of a large oak to shelter in. It was doubtful he’d be safe here for long, but if he could manage even a minute’s break, he’d be grateful.
He looked up, finding Tim standing just outside the hollow. Sully leaned over far enough he could see the ghost’s face.
“Let me know if I need to leave, all right?” he asked.
Tim nodded.
Sully sat back, where his view of Tim was limited to his lower half. He fought to drag in deeper breaths, struggling to hold onto each for a few seconds to both regulate his breathing and bring his heart rate down. He needed to relax. His endurance would be far better if he were calm.
For the briefest of moments, he considered falling back on an ability he’d discovered not so long ago, enabling him to use the energy of ghosts to feed his own. But he shot it down quickly. A darkness inside him fed off other souls. He’d promised to leave that part of himself starving in the dark—a promise he’d made himself as much as anyone else.
He tried to imagine a way he could circle around behind Carson and take him by surprise, but he quickly tossed the idea out. There was no easy way to sneak up on anyone in the winter, not in an otherwise quiet woods blanketed in snow. Each step would make an audible crunch, betraying his location well before he got near enough to disarm the other man. And he also knew he couldn’t stay here long. He’d managed to outrun Carson, but the man had to be tracking his footsteps. It would take Carson longer to reach this place than Sully, but he’d get here nonetheless.
He resolved to stay here another minute at the longest. Then he’d have to go.
Then again, maybe a minute was too much to ask. Without warning, Tim’s lower body suddenly vanished. Sully didn’t even have time to sit forward to see where he’d gone when another set of legs replaced Tim’s. A moment later, the presence crouched in front of him.
Sully found himself staring into the reaper’s unnaturally black eyes. The spirit reached toward him with one hand, causing his coat to shift on one side. A glint in the shadow between jacket and vest drew Sully’s eye.
A tin star. The reaper had been a lawman.
Sully didn’t have time to question him before the hand reached him. A flash of a memory not his own invaded his brain. A man in black shooting it out with a masked bandit on board a moving train. The lawman’s body flying forward as he took what he knew in his last moments to be a shotgun blast in the back.
The vision ended abruptly, and Sully was returned to the here and now. The reaper’s mouth didn’t open, but Sully heard his words nonetheless.
“Get to the tracks.”
&nb
sp; Then the reaper vanished.
The woods had fallen silent. Not so much as an owl or a coyote. Even the wind had died, leaving Dez’s hearing limited to his own footsteps in the snow.
His phone, which he’d been using as a flashlight, buzzed in his hand. Lachlan’s name was on the call display.
“Where the hell are you?” was Lachlan’s greeting.
“No idea. Following footprints. Where are you?”
“After you ditched me, a canine unit came up on me.”
Dez grimaced. “You weren’t bit, were you?”
“Nope, they were in track mode, and I made sure to let the handler know I was there. Worst thing to do is startle a police service dog. Anyway, I’ve been given the boot back to the train tracks. Woods are crawling with cops. I’d suggest you make your way out of there too.”
But Dez had other concerns. “I can’t hear anything anymore.”
“Maybe Sullivan found somewhere to stay hidden.”
“Or—”
“Don’t say it,” Lachlan said. “Like you told me, he’s smart, resourceful and good in a fight. Remember?”
“I was hearing gunshots. Then they stopped. What if—”
Lachlan interrupted again. “What if he got the drop on O’Keefe? You bother telling yourself that in the midst of all your worst-case scenarios?”
“I don’t know, man. It’s really hard to catch someone unawares in the snow. It’s damn near impossible to move quietly. I just—”
He was cut off again, this time by movement from somewhere nearby.
“I hear something,” Dez said into the phone.
“Maybe police. Try to get yourself hidden until you know for sure. You see any lights? All the police were carrying flashlights.”
“I don’t see anything.” Dez glanced around until he found a tree large enough to use as cover. “I’m hanging up.”
