Young Adult / Ghost Girl Chapter Eleven
It felt good to take a shower and eat his mom’s cooking. At ten o’clock, his eyes betrayed him and would not stay open. No sooner did he lay his head on his pillow, then he fell into a deep sleep.
He was walking down the road past their campground. It seemed so unnaturally still that he looked up into the trees to see where the birds were. His feet made hardly any noise as he walked on the soft dirt surface of the road.
“Michael”. Someone said his name. He looked to the left and saw a long, shining hank of brown hair lying in the bushes. His feet took him, unwilling, over to where the hair lay, and he saw a skull attached to the hair and a skeleton lying with it’s bones jumbled and out of place.
Slowly the skeleton started to form itself and turning to flesh. Suddenly he saw Mariah lying, curled up in fetal position, under the bushes where they had found the girl. To his horror she stood up, flesh still forming, and heard her say his name once again as he stood, too horror bound, to turn and run.
“Michael!” Mariah was shaking him awake. “Wake up Michael, you’re having another nightmare.” She put her arms around him and held him tight.
“Oh god, I was dreaming about her, but it was you. You were there, under the bushes where we found her.”
“Michael, it’s over for her now. She’s gone, she’s at rest now because you found her. I saw her spirit leave when you guys found her bones. She was just waiting for someone to find her.”
“How did you know?” Michael’s tone was suspicious.
“I had to know that you were okay. I just didn’t want to let you see me. But when I saw you find her, I knew that could have been me. I knew that you cared, all of you cared. Michael, you don’t know...”
“Shhh,” he cut her off, “it’s not important anymore. It’s all in the past.”
As they lay holding each other, an awful truth came to Michael. He coming to understand that he couldn’t keep Mariah with him, no matter how badly he wanted to. The medium, Short Round, they all knew the truth he hadn’t wanted to face. He’d have to find a way to let her go some day. As much as they loved each other, this wasn’t meant to be. She shouldn’t stay earthbound just because of him, and he had no right to try to hold her here. He knew he wasn’t ready to lose her, but he felt a sharp pain of loss for what was to come. He didn’t know when it would happen, and he didn’t want to think about it. But he knew that whenever it was, he wouldn’t be ready.
She stayed until dawn began to break through the window. Michael had drifted off to sleep and she touched her cold lips to his forehead before she disappeared. He looked for her when he woke, but she was gone.
He got up out of bed and pulled on his jeans. No one in the house seemed to be awake, so he opened the front door, being careful not to make too much noise, and ran up the street to the house.
“You can’t have my sister, you bastard,” he said out loud, “I’m going to find a way to free Mariah and her friend, too. I can’t prove to the cops what you did to that girl; but so help me, now that I’ve seen your handiwork I’m going to bring you down.”
He ran home, hoping no one saw him. He sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, emotions rushing over him, a feelings that were simultaneously determination and dread. An awesome responsibility seemed to be weighing him down. The monster had to be stopped, but he had no idea how. There was a part of him that would have gladly killed him, but that was not in Michael’s nature.
From what he had learned from Mariah, it would be no simple thing for the cops to uncover the monster’s handiwork. The cops could maybe identify the remains of the girl that he and his friends had found, but how would they know who had killed her? Even if he could keep Kit safe, Mariah’s bones would still lie in her grave in his basement, unless he could find a way to free her.
He had thought that turning sixteen would be a passage to the start of adulthood. Sixteen was providing no answers than fifteen did. He suddenly felt old for his years and wished he had somewhere he could turn for guidance. He realized adults did not have all the answers, even if you needed them to in the worst way. In spite of his friends, his parents, Mariah, Michael suddenly felt very alone.
Summer started to slowly turn to fall. All over town leaves were turning to shades of red and gold, a few early stragglers even fell. The big leaf maples were resisting, just the way they’d been the last to open their leaves, but soon they would turn yellow and there would be deep piles of them, impeding Michael progress as he skated down the street.
The doctor had reluctantly cleared him to skate—as long as he wore a helmet, m, elbow and knee pads. He was a little afraid to fall, and he was awkward for a few weeks on the course until his natural rhythm returned. Dewey and Short Round coached and encouraged him and one day he realized he was slowly letting go the fear he would fall.
It was a matter of days now until school started. The nights were still long, but days were growing shorter. He’d met Kit faithfully on the days she took her ballet class. Finding Susie McCann’s skeleton had made him more aware of just how vulnerable his sister was. When he’d come home from the skate park or visiting one of his friend’s, he’d take a good look at the house, trying to see signs of life or if the van had been taken out of the garage.
So far, nothing. He had a nagging feeling that he should try and have a look inside the basement. He hadn’t told Mariah, but had told Dewey and Short Round. He hadn’t known what response to expect, but they had told him in no uncertain terms that he was crazy to even think it. Their picture of the ideal situation consisted of their trying to catch the perpetrator in the act so they could call the police and have him put in jail for good—in jail for good.
This grand plan had lasted for about five minutes, then they realized it required a potential victim. There was no one they wanted to fill that role, so the plan was quickly forgotten.
The three were sitting on a bench at the skate park, trying to come up plans that would work if they had to save Kit from the monster. “Teenage mucho,” Short Round had said derisively, and in truth, their plans were not much more than that. None of them really desired to into the house, let alone the basement, but it seemed a future necessity. They believed that whoever lived in the house, though they had yet to see him, could be capable of hurting Kit.
“You know what we need, a locksmith.” Michael and Short Round looked at Dewey, wondering if he’d lost his mind. “No, seriously, if we could get keys made, we could maybe find a way to get in and out. He’s got to leave to go to the store, unless he’s got a freezer of frozen food. He paused for a moment, “What is wrong with me. I can’t believe I’m channeling “Dracula”. You’re usually the one to come up with the crazy ideas. That was a stupid idea.”
“Thanks,” said Michael wryly, “but I think we’ve figured this much out. We don’t know how we’d pull this off unless we know what it’s like inside that house. Since there’s no way of finding out, we’re not going to know. Right now I’d settle for getting a look at this guy. If his van disappears again, I just might decide to something stupid.”
“No.” Dewey and Short Round said it in unison.
“Mike, promise me, no idiotic stunts.” Dewey grabbed Mike’s arm in a hard grip. “You do something, you don’t do it alone. Safety in numbers, right? You do anything, anything, you do it with Short Round and me, otherwise there might be two captives in that cellar and no way for us to know what happened. He’d get rid of you first, then what would happen to Kit.” His eyes searched Michael’s face intently, looking to see if what he had said had sunk in. “We do it together or not at all, right?” He shook Michael’s arm. “Right?”
“Okay, let go of my arm. Geez.” Mike rubbed his bicep. “You just better be able to get here fast if Kit turns up missing. I don’t know how long she’d have if that creep got her. God, everything here is one big unknown. All I know is that my kid sister may or may not be in danger, and I may or may not have a serial killer living up the street from me. The only thing I know for sure is the place is haunted and I’m beginning to feel haunted, too.”
“You are haunted,” Short Round taunted him, “You and your ghostly girlfriend. You could have any girl in school…” He shook his head.
“Yeah, and you’re working on doing just that, dog. Want me to name names?” Mike narrowed his eyes at him. “Listen, I just feel like there is something that we are supposed to do. I’m not religious or anything, but lately I’m starting to wonder if life gives you challenges to overcome. Dad lost his job, we lost our house, and I guess I had a worse concussion than they told me I had, but Mom didn’t want me to know.”
“We’ve had all this freaky stuff happen to us, things I’d never even imagine in my wildest dreams.” Mike paused a moment, searching for the right words, “maybe we’re supposed to do something to make a wrong right. We manage to get this guy in jail and then there’s no more Mariah’s, no more Suzie McCann’s, no more skeletal remains for someone to stumble across.
“There’s three of us to one of him. Unless he’s got a gun, or can separate us we could get Kit away, call the police, and they could catch the jerk. I could keep my promise to get Mariah’s remains to her parents and maybe she’d finally let go and be wherever she’s supposed to be. I know my parents would want to have me, no matter what state I was in. She’s their daughter, and someone else’s daughter is down there, too.”
“I know we can’t be heroes, but I don’t want him to get my sister. She’s a pain in the ass.” Dewey snorted and muzzled a laugh. Mike smiled. “But she’s family and she’s my sister. I want to protect her, I’m her brother, it’s my job.”
“Well, I don’t see how we can solve this problem today.” Short Round stood up and jumped on his board. “I’ve got to get home, Ma’s making fish ball soup. Yum.”
“I should head home too, Mike, it’s getting late.” Dewey mounted his skateboard and he and Short Round took off.
“I should get home, too,” Michael thought, feeling a sudden hint of apprehension and wondered where it came from. He suddenly noticed the color of the sky was deepening, and it would be almost dark by the time he got home. He rolled on his skateboard to the bus stop, then kicked off. He glanced up at the sky, gloomy, depressed by the approaching end of summer and the prospect of school and homework.
He paid his fare and got on the bus. He went to the back and sat down, board on his lap, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, when a light voice said, “You’ve been avoiding me,” in an accusatory tone.
Mariah had materialized next to him. There was a look of hurt in her blue eyes. He felt her hand lightly smooth back his hair, then touch his cheek. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Everything. It seems like my life should be going great but if anyone really knew the truth they’d know I’m just hanging on. What do I do about you? How can I protect Kit? And why do I feel this sense of…” he searched for a word, “foreboding. That something might, no, will, happen. I feel like I can’t let my guard down even for a minute. If I could go to the police about that guy…” his words trailed off.
“You can’t. I wish you could, but you can’t. Not until he does something.” Mariah’s cool hand rubbed the center of his back. “That’s the hard truth of it. Just try to protect your sister, don’t worry about me—over anything. I’ll do all I can to help you, Crazy Girl will, too.”
The bus had rolled up to Michael’s stop. He got off at the back door and stood and watched the bus roll away. He looked around him, “Mariah?” he whispered, and a light touch on his shoulder let him know she was there.
Suddenly he didn’t feel like leaving the security of the streetlight he stood under. If he left the light, he would step into the darkness and no longer be safe. Light or dark, good or evil, that were the choices he faced. He stood breathing heavily, wondering why he felt this way.
He hopped on his board and rolled down the street. He would go as fast as he could until he reached his house and the safety of his family’s presence. He crouched down, and could feel Mariah’s presence with him, protecting him. One block, two blocks, three blocks four blocks, one more block and he’d pass the monster’s house and he could skid his board to a stop in front of his parents house. One more block, that was all.
“Michael, stop”. Michael didn’t question Mariah, but jumped off and scooped up his board. His eyes were used to the dark now, and he scanned the street, the houses, the trees, try to see what she saw. Her hand closed tightly on his and he could feel her draw close. “There, just past his driveway, there’s a shadow, can you see? Oh Michael, please see.” He looked obediently, wondering what she saw, while guessing who it might be.
A shadowy figure was hiding in the bushes, waiting like a patient predator for its prey. Michael turned his board around so that the wheels faced out. His best protection would be to run if he had to, but a hard enough blow from a skateboard would slow his would-be pursuer down. He’d grown an inch this summer, and as soon as he was well enough he had started working out with weights to build back his strength.
“Let’s go,” he whispered to Mariah, and side by side they crossed the street and stepped onto the corner. No sooner had Michael stepped in front of the house, then the figure charge out of the bushes and grabbed him. Aikido and his skateboard saved him. Though his attacker was bulkier than him, he remembered what his teacher had taught him. “Rule number one, if anyone ever tries to attack you, run. Running was not possible, so instinctively he utilized another rule: “Use your attacker’s weight against him.”
Michael flipped him instinctively, grateful for the years of Aikido, and his sensei for all he taught him. The man landed heavily on his back, panting. Michael was ready to run but the stranger grabbed his ankle. Michael viciously aimed his skateboard at his hunter’s head, but missed. Instead he landed a vicious blow to his chest.
The man began to cough, moaning and grabbing at his chest.
“You’re not a girl, he wheezed,” looking up at Michael.
“No, and I’m not a dumb ass either. You attacked me, that’s assault.” Michael held up his cell phone, “Should I call the cops?”
Michael got a good look at him for the first time as the man lay there in pain. He was in his late fifties, not as tall as him, but broader, with a gut handing over his pants’ waist. Most of the hair on the top of his head was gone, the rest was stringy but had been neatly cut around his ears and the nape of neck. It was too dark to see his features clearly, except that he was so pale his skin seemed to almost glow. He took one last one last look at Michael, then ran into his house and a heavy deadbolt lock clicked shut.
Michael suddenly found himself shaking so hard that he almost dropped his phone. Air didn’t seem to reach his lungs and he found himself gasping for breath. Mariah grabbed his hand and said, “Run!”, and they ran, not stopping until they reached Michael’s house. He ran up the porch steps, and then stood, trying to stop shaking when his father opened the door.
“Michael, what’s wrong?” his father asked as Michael ran into the house and threw himself on the sofa. He watched as Michael dialed “911” and began to talk to the operator, not quite believing what he was hearing his son say.
“No, I tell you, this guy jumped out of the bushes in front of his house and tried to grab me. I hit him with my skateboard before he could get a grip on me, then he looked at me for a moment and ran into his house. No, it was self defense. I didn’t attack him, I fought him off. Geez, I’m a teenager with a skateboard so automatically I’m a criminal.”
Michael’s father grabbed his son’s cell phone. “Hello? I’m his father. My son just came in here white as a sheet, barely able to breathe. I think he’s may be in shock and you’re not doing anything to help. If he says that someone tried to attack him, that’s what happened. My son doesn’t lie and the only time he’s aggressive is on the skateboard track. If there’s someone living on this street who’s a possible danger to my children I’d appreciate your checking it out. I have a 14 year old daughter and this makes me very concerned for her safety. Thank you.” He clicked the end call button on Michael’s phone and handed it back to him.
Mike’s breath was coming more easily now, but his breathing still seemed ragged. “What did they say, Dad?” Mariah sat unseen to anyone but him, in the opposite corner of the room.
Michael’s father sat next to him patted and put is arm around his shoulders. “They’ll be here in a few minutes, but I don’t like the way that 911 operator sounded. She seemed more concerned that you attacked someone. I think you ought to tell me about this. You come in, clearly in a state of shock, white as a sheet, I think your mom and I deserve an explanation.” He paused, “Does this have something to do with what Kit tried to tell us? I’m sorry we didn’t pay more attention, but we thought it was just her imagination and she was panicking over nothing.”
“Dad, it’s real. It’s not one of Kit’s fantasies. They guys and I have been walking her home from the bus, but we quit when her ballet lessons ended for the summer. He’s been watching her and it scared her—bad--so bad that she came home and started crying one night. Now he’s out hunting, trying to grab someone. He saw my long hair, but didn’t realize I was a guy. I managed to get away, but if it had been Kit she couldn’t have. Kit or any other girl wouldn’t stand a chance. I told you there was something wrong about this neighborhood. I was hoping I was wrong, that I was just upset about moving, but that feeling never left.” He paused for a moment, “I didn’t expect anything like this, Dad. I’ve never been as scared as I was when he grabbed me.”
No sooner than Michael had finished, three loud knocks sounded on the door. Michael’s mother, looking as pale as her son, let the officers in.
It went as Michael and his father expected, their skepticism carefully masked, but there. Could they please see the skateboard? How did Michael escape from his assailant’s grasp if he was heavier than him? Michael offered to demonstrate what he had learned in Aikido that enabled him to do it. Neither officer was interested, but seemed more focused on Michael’s using his skateboard—which he held onto since reaching his house—as a weapon.
Michael’s father tried to hold in his temper, but the officers were pushing it too far in the way they questioned his son. “Look,” he exploded, “I know my son. You didn’t see him when he first came in, and he’s still not himself. This is a kid who’s never been in any trouble in his life. If he says he was attacked, he was attacked. If he was so scared that that he struck back, I can’t blame him. He’s my son, and if he’d killed that bastard I wouldn’t have minded.”
Michael’s mother gently put her hand on her husband’s thigh. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I lost my head, but if this had been his 14 year old sister, what would have happened?”
“We’ll go up to the house and talk to the owner, find out what he has to say,” said one of the officers, “He may want to press charges or he may not. If your son was acting in self defense then you can press charges against him, though with no witnesses, it’s your word against his.” They let themselves out the door and Michael breathed an audible sigh of relief.
The familiar knocking sounded on the door fifteen minutes later. Michael let them in, feeling something was wrong, seeing it in their eyes.
“There was no one there,” one of the officers said, “The place is locked up tight, it doesn’t look as if anyone has lived for a long time. There was no response to our knocking and announcing ourselves.”
“But Kit’s seen him stare at her through his window,” Michael protested, “He was waiting in front of the house, and then ran back in after I hit him with a skateboard. He said he thought I was a girl.” Where had that bastard gone and hidden himself, he thought.
“No one there,” the officer repeated, “Maybe you were the victim of a random attack and lucky for you, you escaped. We’ll keep an eye on the place, but quite frankly, we don’t think anyone even lives there. No mail in the mailbox, not even a name. If you ask me, that house was abandoned a long time ago.”
“Thank you officer, but I think my son has had enough for the night.” Michael’s mother gently pushed them towards the door. The younger of the two looked at her, appraising her, almost undressing her with his eyes. Michael sat and said nothing, his teeth clenched, but he hated it when men looked at his mother that way. He felt very protective towards her, and this punk was out of line.
When they were out the door, she grabbed three small brandy balloons, poured a small portion for Michael, and larger drinks for her husband and herself. “Normally I wouldn’t do this Michael, but this will help you calm down. It’s not okay with your father and I that you drink, but this is an exception.”
Kit came downstairs. “What was all that about?” Her eyes widened when she saw the brandy in Michael’s hands.
“Kit,” said her father, “I want to apologize. Someone tried to attack Michael tonight. I think it was the same person you told us was staring at you. I’m sorry, I truly am.”
“You didn’t believe me when I told you, but now that Michael’s been attacked you finally believe me? Why wouldn’t you believe me when I first told you? That is so not unfair!” She turned around and ran upstairs to her room and slammed the door.
“”I’ll take care of this.” Michael’s mother set her brandy on the coffee table and went upstairs to her daughter’s room. She rapped on the door softly saying, “Kit?” Nothing happened for a moment, then the sound of the door opening and she silently entered Kit’s room.
Fifteen minutes later she came back into the living room. “She’s angry. Frankly, I don’t blame her. I’ve always tried to give the two of you the benefit of the doubt, but your father and I blew this one—big time. If something happens to her now, I won’t forgive myself.” She looked at Michael, noticing his color hadn’t improved much. He seemed listless and apathetic. “Michael, if I order pizza, can I get you to eat. You don’t look very good.”
“Not hungry, Mom, really. This has kind of taken away my appetite.” Michael smiled, trying to reassure her.
His mother wrinkled her brow. “It’s not all right that you don’t eat. I understand your not having an appetite now, but you need to get some food in you. I’ll order pizza, I’m too upset to cook. Go upstairs and take a shower, it’s not cure but the hot water will make you feel better. I’ll bring some pizza up to your room and you can eat in there. I’d feel better if you rested.”
Michael kissed her and went upstairs. He dumped his stuff on the floor, then noticed Mariah sitting on the bed. He’d forgotten completely about her in all the uproar. She floated over to him and put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Michael, this is all my fault.” She kissed him more deeply and hungrily than she ever had before. He tightened his grip around her before he released her.
“I have to take a shower. Mom’s ordering pizza and she’s ordered me to hang out in my room and rest. I wish I could forget what happened, like wake up in the morning and have it disappear entirely from my mind. Tomorrow I’m going to check that guy’s house. He’s not gone, I know he’s not gone. Maybe he has a really good hiding place or the cops didn’t try very hard because they think I made all this up, or that I harassed him.”
“Michael, promise you’ll be careful? I…” She cut the sentence off. An awareness of something that neither wanted to face had surfaced and would not now go away.
Michael stood up, intending to go take his shower, when his feet seemed to give way under him. He seemed to fall in slow motion to the floor, then began to shake uncontrollably. All the accumulated feelings he had held in suddenly seemed to rush to the surface, and to his deep shame, tears began to form in his eyes. He felt unbearably cold, but couldn’t seem to move himself from the floor to the warmth of his bed. A blanket floated over and draped itself over him, and Mariah knelt next to him, holding it tightly around him.
“It’s okay, Michael, I bet it’s a delayed reaction from shock. You seem to think you should be a super human. Super student. Super skateboarder. Super cyclist. Now you’re trying to rescue your sister. Maybe nothing will happen and she won’t need rescuing. You can’t rescue your parents either. You’re just Michael, why can’t you let the world take care of itself?”
He’d stopped shaking as she spoke to him, he could even feel the cold flowing out of his body and as he sat cocooned in the warmth of the blanket. He wiped the tears away with his hand and let himself lean back into Mariah’s arms. He closed his eyes and leaned back and let Mariah hold him for a moment. He wanted a shower to wash away the memory of what had happened, but he wasn’t sure he could get up if he tried.
He sighed and stood up, letting the blanket drop. ”I’ll be back. Mom’s bringing my dinner up here. I’m going to shower.”
“You didn’t listen to a word I said.” Mariah was furious. “Fine. Go try and save the world but don’t blame me when you find out you can’t.” She vanished from the room.
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Yeah. Urbis. Grrrh… I have Mozilla—still have problems…
Opening of chapter is big drama! I missed the chapters where they’ve found this other skeleton, but you’ve clued me in. Very creepy! Well done!
I can see that the love relationship is progressing, and it is so nicely described, in keeping with a guy this age (a mature and sensible one). He knows he has to lose her, etc.
Love this: Sixteen was providing no answers than fifteen did. (I’m still waiting?)
Great paragraph, very well-written, and once again very much in keeping with his age.
*you write just enough detail, introspection, decription, etc for this age group, without overdoing. Its perfect!
The friend reactions to his “ghost” girlfriend are perfect!
Again, and you got them thinking of police, with a little plan, shows them to be sensible, but of this age group…
The attack scene—well done again. I like the way you use his Aikido training, thought processes to show how he is able to defeat big, older man. Seemed very realistic.
Okay—so there are the (concerned and responsible) parents, the cops, etc. You needed this for believability (unless you made them uncaring, irresponsible parents, which you probably have reasons not to do for the sake of the story)
Really good! I love it! Please finish this! Its wonderful! The characters are engrossing (and I’m not even a teenager—just act like one sometimes).
Katy its amazing!
My big grammar critique:
there’s no more Mariah’s, no more Suzie McCann’s. Don’t need the posessive “s” on these. Mariahs, McCanns
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