Ghosts the complete seri.., p.11
Ghosts: The Complete Series, page 11
Eventually he goes through to the bathroom and starts to wash his face in the sink. I follow him through, standing right behind him. I look ahead and see my own reflection in the mirror. I look so... normal. I look exactly the same as I looked when I was alive. If you could see me, you'd never realize that I'm dead, and that so much has happened to me over the past few days. Sure, there's perhaps a darker look in my eyes, a hint of something sad and hurt. But I look so... healthy. I guess since I died I haven't eaten any burgers, or drunk any cola, so at least my skin has cleared up. Then again, I don't really have skin any more, do I? I reach a hand up and touch my face. I can feel it. But is it really there?
"What the fuck?" my father asks, glancing up at himself in the mirror and making eye contact with me. He spins around and stares straight at me.
"Hi," I say, shocked. After all this time, waiting to be able to appear to him, I'm suddenly completely unprepared.
"Fuck," he says, storming past me - hell, storming through me - and running to the room where he's been sleeping. He pushes the door shut, but I follow and walk straight through the wall. I find my father standing in the middle of the room, watching me with a shocked look on his face.
"Surprised to see me?" I ask. It's strange: I can feel my heart beating hard in my chest, but... what heart? What chest?
My father steps backwards, shaking his head. "No fucking way," he says.
I step toward him. "What's wrong? Thought you'd got rid of me?"
"I..." He pauses, then the expression on his face changes from shock to... I don't know how to describe it, but it's almost like pity. "I'm so sorry, Beth. I'm so sorry." He looks around the room. "Are they all here?"
"You mean Mom?" I ask. "No. Mom's not here. None of them are here except me. I don't know why that is. I guess I'm just the luck one."
"I didn't want to do it," he stammers. "Please believe me, I didn't want to do it, I just -"
"What?" I shout. "What could possibly justify the fact that you stuck a fucking ax in my chest? You tried to kill Elise. Twice!"
He shakes his head, tears streaming from his eyes. "Please believe me. Please don't think I wanted to do it."
"Then why did you?" I ask, stepping closer to him. He steps back. I smile. "At least tell me that. Why did you kill us?"
He keeps shaking his head. "I can't!" he sobs. "I can't!"
"Can't what?"
"I can't tell you!" he shouts. "Please don't make me!"
I step toward him, and this time when he steps back he finds himself against the wall. He's cornered. "You owe me an explanation," I say.
"I thought..." He pauses. "I didn't want to... I was tricked, Beth. He made me do it."
"Who?" I ask, before a sudden realization hits me. "Lucas Everard?"
He nods, still sobbing. "I can't tell you," he says. "Please, Beth. I can't tell you!"
"What are you, scared?" I ask. For a moment, I almost pity him. He seems to be totally terrified, totally out of control, totally shocked and helpless. "Are you scared of your murdered daughter as she comes to demand the truth from you?"
He nods, then he makes a run for it. I reach out to grab him, but my hand just goes straight through. I run after him, and I follow him down the stairs and out the front of the house. The sky is red and orange as the sun dips below the horizon. My father turns and sees that I'm right behind him, and he stops.
"Please don't hurt me!" he shouts. "I had to do it. Lucas told me! He told me I had to listen..."
"You had to listen to Lucas?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "The voices!" he shouts.
"What voices?" I ask.
"I hear them all the time!" he shouts, suddenly dropping to his knees. "All the time. Even when I'm asleep, they're talking to me, telling me to do things."
"So you're mad?" I ask.
"No!" he shouts. "I just..." He pauses. He looks so miserable, and wretched, and pitiful. "I just had to listen to them."
"What's that got to do with Lucas?" I ask.
"He told me," my father says. "He told me that maybe I shouldn't ignore the voices, maybe I should listen to them. And maybe if I sacrifice..." His voice trails off.
"Sacrifice what?" I ask. "Me? Mom? Everyone else?"
He just nods, looking down at the ground. It's as if he can't look at me any more, as if he can't bear to see what he's done. I guess I'm a reminder of his terrible act. When he looks at me, he has to face the memories of all that blood, all those screams.
"I don't get it," I say, walking right over to him, towering above him as he kneels on the ground. "Why did Lucas Everard tell you to murder your family?"
My father looks up at me, still sobbing, tears still rolling down his cheeks. "He was one of the voices," he whimpers. "He was in my head."
While I'm trying to work out exactly what this means, my father gets to his feet and runs over to a nearby car. Smashing the window, he reaches in and opens the door, then manages to hot wire the ignition and get the motor running.
"Where are you going?" I ask. He ignores me and starts the car, but I step straight through the side and take a place in the back seat. "You think you can just drive away and forget all of this?"
"You're not really here," he says, glancing at me in the mirror. "I'm imagining you."
With a screech of the tires, he accelerates and we speed along the street.
"What's wrong, Dad?" I ask, staring at him in the mirror. "Don't you believe in me?"
He takes a sharp, fast left turn and I realize he's heading out of town. He thinks he can just drive off into the sunset and forget about all of this. He thinks he can leave me behind and get away from me. And the truth is, he might be right. Physically, at least. I can't leave the town, not ever, so if he gets away I'll never have another chance. At least he seems to be leaving Elise alone, so she's safe. And isn't that all I wanted? I told Kal and Tammy that the only reason I wanted to kill my father was that I had to protect my sister. Now that she's safe, I should just let my father go, shouldn't I? I stare at him.
No.
He murdered me.
He murdered my mother.
He murdered my brother.
He tried to murder my little sister.
With a deep, dark rage filling my body, I feel absolutely certain that I have no choice but to make sure he also dies. I look at the steering wheel, then I look out the window. We're going so fast, we're already past the last buildings and out onto the bare road that leads to the edge of town. There's no-one else around who can get hurt. So without any more thought, I lunge forward and grab the steering wheel. To my surprise, I can feel it in my hands, so I turn it as hard as I can. The tires screech, my father tries to regain control, but it's too late and the car turns, skids, hits a bump at the side of the road and flips straight into the dust.
Chapter Eight
Returning to Laura's home, I find the lights are down low and at first I assume that no-one is home. It's getting dark outside and usually by this point, Laura is roaming the house with a drink in her hand, but tonight everything seems quiet. It's only when I go through to her dining room that I find her, sitting alone with not a glass but a whole bottle of gin on the table.
"Hey," she says, clearly a little drunk.
I stare at her. Her black mascara has mixed with her tears and run down her cheeks. I have only been on this planet for a few days, but I find it hard to believe I could ever see another human being looking so sad.
"Has something happened?" I ask.
She nods. "Eight years ago today," she says, her voice trembling.
I pause, not sure what she means, but then I see that there's someone else in the room. Standing in the dark corner, it's Laura's dead son Henry. He's just watching his mother, and she seems to have no idea that he's there.
"Your son," I say.
She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them and stares at me. "He was my son," she says, "but I was never really his mother. A mother wouldn't allow something like this to happen."
I walk over to Laura and take a seat next to her. She grabs the bottle of gin and takes a swig.
"I would like to know what happened," I say calmly. I glance over at Henry. He's just staring at us.
"There was a crash," Laura says. "A car crash. We..." She pauses. "I thought he was okay. He was talking, he was normal. We came home, and I swear to you, he was fine." She turns to me. "I swear, he was absolutely fine. There was no blood. He didn't have any broken bones. We were both okay, I thought it was a miracle. I thought we'd both survived with no problems. I was so grateful. I actually thanked God. I don't even believe in God, but that night, I thanked him."
"And then what happened?" I ask.
She sighs. "I put Henry to bed, and then I stayed up. I was so shocked, my hands were shaking. Eventually I had a few drinks -" She takes another swig from the bottle of gin, "and then I fell asleep on the sofa. And..." She breaks down sobbing. Aware that it is customary to hug someone in this type of situation, I put an arm around her.
"Henry died that night?" I ask.
She nods, unable to speak.
I pause, not sure what to say.
"I had a headache," Henry suddenly says from the corner.
I look down at Laura, but she clearly can't see or hear the ghost of her son.
"I woke up with a headache," Henry continues. "I tried to wake Mommy, but I couldn't. And then... I don't know what happened next. I don't remember. But everything changed, and then when Mommy woke up, she couldn't see me or hear me any more."
Laura looks up at me. "I found him the next morning. Still in bed. Later, they told me he'd suffered trauma in the crash, serious concussion that had led to bleeding on the brain. I should have realized I was so stupid." She breaks down sobbing again.
"I'm dead," says Henry. "It took me a while to work it out." He pauses. "Ask her why we crashed."
"None of this is your fault," I say to Laura. "You didn't know that he was hurt -"
"I didn't even take him to a hospital!" she screams at me, causing both Henry and myself to step back in shock. "I didn't even bother! I just brought him home because I didn't want to have to think about it! I didn't want his father to find out about the crash, because I thought I'd lose custody!"
"It's still not your fault," I say, though I can't help thinking that she perhaps had her priorities a little wrong. "It's not your fault," I repeat, realizing that I'm telling a lie. Yes, it's to make Laura feel better, but it's still a lie. It feels wrong to say something that's not true, but I do not feel that I am capable of telling her what I really think. "If I may ask," I add, "what caused the car crash?"
"You think I was drunk?" Laura asks.
"No," I say, though again this is not entirely an honest answer.
"Everyone thought I was drunk," she says. "But they couldn't prove it. And I wasn't! I swear. I'd had one, maybe two drinks, but I wasn't drunk. It was... It was him," she says sadly.
"Who?" I ask.
She pauses. "That Red Man," she says bitterly.
"You saw the Red Man?" I ask, surprised to hear Laura talking about him.
She nods. "Suddenly he was there, in the road ahead of me. I swerved to avoid him." She looks at me with longing, pleading eyes. "That's why I crashed. You have to believe me. If it was alcohol, don't you think I'd..." She pauses and takes another sip from the bottle. "It wasn't my fault that we crashed. That man just appeared in front of the car." She sighs. "You know why he appears, don't you?"
I pause, not sure what to say. "I've heard stories," I say.
"We were heading out of town," Laura says. "We were leaving. And... The Red Man stops bad people from leaving town. That's why no-one ever tries, because everyone's too scared. He kills bad people if they try to leave. But this time he killed the wrong person. He should have killed me, but instead he killed my son."
"My mom isn't a bad person," Henry says.
"It was an accident," I say. "He -"
"He was trying to kill me," Laura says, "and he killed my son instead. Or maybe that was the point all along, to punish me. Either way... here I am. Alone and haunted by a ghost I can't even see."
"You think you're haunted by Henry's ghost?" I ask, glancing at Henry.
She pauses. "I must be," she says. "If there's any justice in the world, he'd haunt me to the day I die. I don't see him, or hear him, but I'm sure he's here sometimes. I sense him."
"I'm sure that won't happen," I say, glancing up at Henry. He stares back at me. "I'm sure Henry understands that none of this was your fault. I'm sure he understands that you did everything you could to keep him safe. And I'm sure he understands that you loved him very much, and that you still love him." I pause for a moment and look over at the window. The sun has gone down. I have to go. If I'm right, Beth and her father will be meeting the Red Man some time soon, and I have to be there to make sure my theory is correct. "I'll be back," I say.
Laura doesn't reply, so I get up and walk to the door.
"Wait," Laura says.
I turn to her.
Laura looks at me. "Have you seen Henry's ghost?"
Henry looks at me. "Can you make it so she can see me?"
I turn and walk out of the room. "No," I say, without looking back.
Chapter Nine
I guess when you're alive, car crashes are terrifying. You're in a metal box, flipping in the air and rolling along the ground. Any moment, you could be snapped, squashed or sliced in any number of ways. And even if you survive the initial crash, you might get trapped and burn to death. Terrifying, I'm sure. But when you're a ghost, and you're already dead so nothing can hurt you, a car crash is fucking amazing. And it's a bonus if the other person in the car with you is your father, and he's very much flesh and blood, and you're watching him, waiting for him to get hurt.
The car comes to a rest some way from the road, on its roof. The engine has died, but there's a hissing sound from somewhere and the front window is cracked.
"Fuck," my father says.
I lean over to look at him, but apart from a cut on his chin he seems almost completely unharmed.
"How the fuck are you still alive?" I shout at him.
He looks at me, horror in his eyes. "Get the fuck away from me," he shouts, struggling to unfasten his seat-belt.
"I'm not going anywhere until you're dead like me," I sneer at him. It's a shock to hear such hatred in my voice but, at the same time, it's totally justified. This man deserves to die a long, slow, agonizing death.
Finally he gets the seat-belt unfastened and he pushes the door open, crawling out onto the dirt. I walk straight out of the car and stand beside him, looking down.
"Where do you think you're going?" I ask. "How the fuck do you possibly think you can get away from me?"
Instead of answering, he scrambles to his feet and starts to run, but then he falls. It's hard to see much in the moonlight, but I notice a patch of darkness on his lower trouser leg. "You're bleeding," I say. "You're fucking bleeding to death."
"No!" he shouts, rolling the trouser leg up to reveal a large gash in the skin. It's nasty-looking, but it's not going to be fatal. He gets up and starts limping away.
I follow him, and I try to grab him but my arm just goes straight through.
"Tell me why you did it!" I shout at him.
He doesn't reply. He just keeps limping away, and soon we're back up on the road.
"You don't think you owe me an explanation?" I ask. "You stuck a fucking ax in my chest, and you don't think I deserve to know why?"
"Fuck off," he says quietly. It sounds like he still thinks I'm a hallucination, like he thinks I'm all in his head and he just has to snap out of it to make me go away.
"I'm never going away!" I shout. "I'm still here! I'm going to fucking haunt you for the rest of your life, screaming in your fucking face until you tell me!"
"He made me!" my father shouts, turning to face me. "He made me!"
"Who?" I shout. "Lucas Everard?"
"Don't say that name!" my father shouts, turning and limping away toward the edge of town.
"How the hell did Lucas Everard make you kill your family?" I shout.
"He -" my father starts to say, and then he pauses and stares straight ahead. I look along the road and see that there's a figure standing in the darkness, just a few meters away.
"Kal?" I ask, but the figure steps forward and I see with shock that it's not Kal. It's a man with no skin. A red man. The Red Man.
"Sweet Lord," says my father. "What do you want?"
The Red Man takes a step toward us. It's shocking to see his body, all the muscles and sinews exposed, glistening in the moonlight. He has a totally serious expression on his face, his gaze fixed on my father. I've heard so much about the Red Man, but I assumed it was a myth. I never thought I'd actually come face to face with him, never thought he'd be right here looking at us. But I know the rest of the Red Man's story. He prevents bad people from leaving town, usually by killing them. So this shouldn't be too hard...
"Try and leave," I say to my father, who has stopped ahead of me, as if frozen in place.
"I can't," he says.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because he'll kill me."
"Because you know that you're pure evil," I say. "There's no way you'll be allowed to leave this town. Not ever." I look at the Red Man. "Tell him," I say. "Tell him what you'll do to him if he tries to leave."
The Red Man turns to look at me, and then steps toward me.
"Tell him," I say again.
But the Red Man just keeps walking toward me, moving straight past my father.
"Tell him!" I shout.
My father turns and runs, straight away from us, straight out of town.
"He's getting away!" I shout at the Red Man. "You're letting him go!"
But the Red Man doesn't respond. He just comes closer and closer to me, until he's standing right in front of me.
"You let him leave," I say, staring up into the Red Man's eyes. "Why the fuck did you let him leave?"
