by JG Faherty
Ellie had remained doubtful, until the money showed up in Carson’s mailbox the previous evening. Nearly two thousand dollars in an unmarked envelope, with a note that read “In case of emergency.” Carson had hidden the money in Eddie’s closet. He tried to match the handwriting to Eddie’s but they couldn’t be sure.
The first thing she’d said to him when he got to school was, “Hank Bowman robbed the laundromat yesterday.”
That’s when they decided to talk to someone. No way Hank, or any of the Hell Riders, would give money to the Ryders.
With the decision made, they decided to wait until after school to speak with Mr. Gunderson. They knew he always stopped by Rosie’s Diner on his way home from the school to say hi to his wife, Jenny. Their plan was to meet him there and ask him some questions, the idea being that doing it outside of school would give them more privacy.
However, as soon as they entered Rosie’s, their strategy backfired. Three of Kellie’s friends sat at the counter. Melanie Parris, Cindy Kolb, and Annette Chadway. He knew them all from school, but none of them had ever spoken to him. They were alternating between looking at their phones, talking, and nibbling on orders of French fries and gator nuggets, a Rosie’s special that Carson found especially repulsive. Even worse than peanut butter. Whenever Eddie had brought them home, Carson had to leave the room because just the smell of them made him want to puke.
As they’d expected, Todd Gunderson stood down at the far end of the counter, chatting with Jenny. In order to reach him, though, they’d have to go past all their classmates.
“What do we do?” Kellie asked.
“You go ahead and talk to them,” Carson said. “I’ll ask Mr. Gunderson if I can speak with him outside. You can meet us out there.”
“Okay.”
Carson took two steps and his world went black.
* * *
Kellie paused as Carson stumbled. She was about to ask him if he was okay, but her friend Melanie Parris chose that moment to look over at them. “Kellie! Come sit. We just got milkshakes.”
“What the heck.” Carson smiled. “We have time. Gunderson’s not going anywhere for a while. Besides, I’m hungry as hell.” He motioned at the teacher, who was two bites into a big piece of key lime pie. Kellie frowned, but followed Carson to where the girls were sitting.
“Are those gator nuggets?” Carson asked. He reached over Melanie’s shoulder and snagged two of the fried treats.
“Hey!” Melanie glared at him. “Rude much?”
“Sorry,” Carson said, sounding anything but. He took a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and put it on the counter. “I’ll get the next order. Make it two. Hell, make it the whole ’gator.”
“What’s the deal, Kellie?” The three girls eyed Carson like he’d just crawled from a sewer. Kellie had hoped things would go smoother the first time they hung out together with her friends, but it was obvious he’d already made a bad impression.
“Carson and I were just grabbing a soda before heading to his house to do our homework.” She hoped the girls would get the hint that she and Carson were together and hold back any sarcastic comments.
“No hurry, though,” Carson said around a mouthful of fries. “We can shoot the shit for a while. So, who besides me thinks Kellie is hot?”
Melanie’s eyes went wide and the other two girls gave nervous giggles. Kellie’s face grew warm. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Was Carson trying to be funny? If so, he was doing a bad job of it.
Does he really think I’m hot?
“C’mon,” Carson continued, as if unaware of their reaction to his statement. “You girls always talk about this kind of stuff. Who’s popular. Who’s pretty. Who’s dating who. I mean, I’m a lucky guy, right? Any boy in school would love to get this one alone in a room for a couple of hours.” He put his hand on Kellie’s waist as he spoke and pulled her close.
Kellie found herself pulling away from him. “I think we should go now,” she said, putting as much ice into her voice as she could. Whatever had gotten in to him, they could talk about it later, when Carson was….
Acting like himself again?
Oh, God, it’s happening. And at the worst time.
It no longer mattered if he was possessed or just suffering from some kind of mental breakdown. She had to get him outside and away from everyone until he returned to normal.
“Carson, we need to go.” She grabbed his hand and tugged.
He wiped his fingers on his shirt and nodded. “Okay.” Then he stepped away and stared down the aisle. “Hey, Mr. Gunderson!”
Heads turned toward him at his shout, including Gunderson’s. Kellie pulled harder at his hand.
“Eddie says fuck you!” Carson flipped up his middle finger and then let Kellie drag him away. She heard her friends laughing as she led Carson to the door. In any other instance, she’d have been mortified, knowing that in minutes the whole episode would be all over social media and rumors would be flying.
Carson Ryder took a swing at Mr. Gunderson!
Carson and Kellie are doing it!
As bad as all that was, Kellie knew they had bigger problems.
“Eddie says fuck you.”
Carson was right! Eddie’s ghost, or something, has come back and it’s possessing him.
What do I do?
She paused on the sidewalk. There was no way she could bring him to the library. Not only would he make a scene, but then he’d know that they knew his secret. She desperately tried to think, while at the same time trying to act as if she wasn’t terrified. She couldn’t let Eddie’s ghost know they were on to him. No telling what he’d do in that case.
Think!
Home. I have to get him home. Whenever he’s been possessed like this, he’s always passed out afterward. And how would I explain that if it happens in public?
“C’mon, Carson, let’s go to your house. We can watch some TV. Besides, your mom is probably wondering where you are.”
Carson’s eyes lit up in a way she didn’t like. It wasn’t his usual innocent happy look, the look that told her he really liked her but was too afraid to say it. This was somehow oilier, creepier. She’d seen it before – not on Carson, but on a couple of other boys she’d dated, usually right before they tried to stick their hands down her pants.
The idea of being in a room alone with him suddenly frightened her but she couldn’t see a way out of it, now that she’d suggested going to his house. Luckily, it was a long walk to the Ryder’s trailer. Hopefully long enough for Eddie to get tired or bored and leave.
Do ghosts even get tired? Who knows why he comes and goes. For all we know, it could be—
Lost in thought, Kellie was caught by surprise when Carson pulled her into a narrow walkway between the hardware store and the empty building that used to be Arlo’s Comics before Arlo Hindle found religion and moved to Miami.
“Carson! What are you—”
Carson slapped his hand over her mouth, cutting her off in mid-question. With his other arm he pinned her against the rough wooden wall of the store. Splinters pricked her skin and snagged her hair, and she cried out against his palm. His hand moved down until it was squeezing her left breast. There was no hesitation, no fumbling. It was a hand that knew just what to do, where to touch. An experienced hand.
Kellie’s guts churned and burning acid crept up her throat as her stomach threatened to empty itself. Looking into Carson’s eyes, she saw nothing but lust. There was no doubt he was going to have his way with her whether she liked it or not.
Something hard pressed against her leg, and she let out a moan before she could stop herself. Although still a virgin, she’d made out with boys before, even gone to second base with a couple of them, so she recognized an erection when she felt one.
Out of nowhere, something Melanie had once said cam
e back to her. They’d been talking about virginity, and Melanie, who’d been dating Kevin Thatch for almost two months at the time, had shared her secret for keeping him out of her pants.
“The best way to avoid sex is to give him a BJ. Once he comes, all he’ll want to do is eat and watch TV.”
Melanie had demonstrated her technique, using her thumb (which she’s said was about right for Kevin). And although Kellie had never even seen a penis except for in pictures on the internet, sticking one in her mouth had to be better than getting raped.
Hoping it wouldn’t make Eddie’s ghost angry, she forced herself down, sliding out of his grasp, her back scraping painfully down the wall, and went to her knees in front of him. The bulge in Carson’s pants was right at eye level, and it looked a lot larger than a thumb. She started to cry, hating what was happening, hating herself for not screaming for help or just punching him in the balls. But that would only hurt Carson or get him in trouble, and none of this was Carson’s fault.
Hands grabbed the back of her head and she closed her eyes, dreading the humiliation she was about to go through.
Except nothing happened.
Kellie opened her eyes just in time to see Carson stumble away and fall to the ground.
At the same time, thunder roared through the sky and a chorus of car alarms filled the air with their strident wailing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eddie wanted to throw up. Instead, he screamed and sent Diablo barreling through the heavens at full throttle. Down below, people stopped in their tracks and looked up as the ghost bike’s violent percussions rocked Hell Creek over and over.
What the hell had he been thinking? How had he gotten so carried away? If the girl hadn’t gone to her knees, started crying….
I’d have raped her right there.
What the fuck is happening to me?
It was the same question he kept finding himself asking. Something was wrong, that was for sure. He couldn’t blame it on Carson’s teenage hormones, couldn’t blame it on residual effects from possessing Hank. Even his own anger, so strong it had brought him back from the fucking dead, didn’t explain his overwhelming desire to tear Kellie Jones’s clothes off and screw her like a three-dollar whore right there in the alley.
I’m changing.
He hated to believe it, but it had to be true. He was turning into someone else, something else, and he had no ability to stop it from happening.
Am I really a demon? An evil monster?
He’d thought that once he killed all the Hell Riders and avenged his death he’d be freed from his anger, able to move on to wherever spirits go.
But what if that wasn’t the path Fate had in store for him? What if he was doomed to haunt Hell Creek forever, growing stronger and more dangerous every day?
Can’t think like that. He eased back on Diablo’s throttle and his thoughts slowed in time with the bike. Gotta stick to the plan. I haven’t killed them all, so maybe it’s still possible I can finish this and leave Hell Creek forever. Leave this goddamned world forever. That has to be it. In the meantime, I’ll just have to be more careful. Control this thing inside me. As long as I don’t use Carson’s body anymore, I’ll be fine. Who cares what I do to anyone else?
It was time to get back in the game.
Another Hell Rider had to die.
* * *
The first thing Carson noticed when he woke up was the sting of dirt and gravel grinding against his cheek.
“What…?”
“Lie still,” a voice said. Kellie? No, older. Who?
He turned his head, saw Mrs. Powell, who ran the Cinema Royale with her husband. The woman whose daughter Eddie had killed. What’s going on?
“Where am I? What happened?” As soon as he said the words, he knew the answer to his own last question. Another blackout. Oh, no. That means Eddie was here again.
“Carson, it’s okay. You…got knocked down by a piece of the building.”
Kellie’s voice. He looked the other way. She was kneeling next to him. Her eyes went wide and then back to normal, and he got the hint.
“The building? What about it?”
“All that thunder,” Mrs. Powell said. Her black mourning dress brought back unpleasant memories of Eddie’s burial. “It broke windows and some bricks and wood came down and hit you. Kellie ran across the street and got me.”
“Oh.” Carson pushed himself to his feet. When he got a better look at Kellie, he gasped. Her arms were all scratched, she’d obviously been crying, and her hair and clothes were rumpled and dirty.
Damn you to hell, Eddie. What did you do?
“We should get you home,” Kellie said. She thanked Mrs. Powell for her help.
“Are you two sure you’re all right? Maybe we should call a doctor.”
“No!” He and Kellie said it together. He thought fast. “I, um, was supposed to go right home after school. My mom will kill me if she finds out I was goofing off instead of studying.”
Mrs. Powell frowned, but nodded. “Okay. But promise me you’ll call a doctor if you have any headaches. You could have a concussion, you know.”
“I promise.” A concussion was the least of his worries. Compared to getting possessed by your own brother, a head injury was nothing. Even a brain disorder or a tumor would be preferable.
Carson took Kellie’s hand and led her away from the theater manager’s overly concerned gaze. Once they were out of earshot, he cleared his throat to get Kellie’s attention.
“Thanks. For back there. You saved us from a lot of questions.”
“It wasn’t hard to guess what was happening.”
Something in her voice grabbed Carson’s attention away from his own problems. “What did he do to you?”
She sighed, and walked in silence for a few seconds before answering. Each footstep was like a punch in Carson’s stomach, confirming his suspicions that Eddie had really gone overboard this time.
Then she spoke, and it was far worse than he’d expected.
“Carson, I didn’t really know Eddie, only met him once or twice when my dad stopped at the garage, but you always say he was a good brother, that he just fell in with the wrong crowd but never hurt anyone intentionally.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Carson said, his belly feeling like it might explode.
“If that’s true, I think being a ghost has changed him. He was…awful. As bad as any of the Hell Riders. And he did this.” She turned so he could see the scrapes on her back and arms.
If she’d told him she’d gotten the scratches and bruises from skateboarding, or falling off a bike, or even getting into a fight at school, Carson wouldn’t have thought much of them. The bruises would be gone in a day or two, and the scrapes would fade from angry red to pale pink to nothing at all before a week passed.
But knowing Eddie had done it – using me! My hands! – Carson wanted to fall to his knees and puke. He wanted to punch his brother in the nose. He wanted to pull Kellie into an embrace and tell her it was okay, he’d take care of everything.
Instead, he stared at her and started to cry.
Even as he berated himself for doing it – stop it, she’ll think you’re a baby! – the tears grew worse.
And suddenly her arms were around him.
“It’s okay. I knew it wasn’t you. And they don’t hurt, really.”
“It’s not that,” he said, pulling away and sniffing back a nose full of snot. “It’s just…he’s my brother. I love him. But now….”
Kellie stroked his shoulder. “Now, what?”
“Now I’m starting to hate him.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
While hovering over the center of Hell Creek, trying to decide on his next target, Eddie Ryder found inspiration in the unlikeliest of places: the police station.
Johnny Ray Jones wa
s walking across the street, carrying a cardboard tray with four cups of coffee on it.
Isn’t that sweet? The boss is bringing coffee to the workers. I should shoot a little lightning up his ass and scare the crap out of him, make him drop the whole damn tray.
He held back, though, still focused mostly on who his next victim should be. Since he was saving Hank Bowman – whom he had finally located in the hospital, one floor down from Jethro Cole – for last, that left only Mouse Bates as the remaining Hell Rider he hadn’t fucked with.
Too bad. The one I’d really like to get my hands on is Ned Bowman.
That had proved impossible, though. No matter how hard he tried, Eddie still couldn’t break free of the general area surrounding Hell Creek. And with Everglades Correctional Institute way up in Miami, there was no way he could get to Ned.
Or was there?
I can’t go to him, but maybe there’s a way to bring Ned to me….
Hadn’t he seen on TV shows that cops could sometimes get prisoners out of prison for questioning or other reasons? Which meant Chief Jones could take care of his problem for him.
Or rather, I can take care of the problem myself.
A moment later he was sliding into Jones’s body. The Chief’s hand twitched once, spilling some coffee onto his desk, and then Eddie had control.
Whoah!
Johnny Ray was more than twenty years older than him and he felt it. The differences in how Johnny Ray’s body moved, how his reflexes worked, were startling. Even more so than the two girls in the clubhouse. Slower, but more controlled. More deliberate.
Is this how I’d have felt if I’d lived to see forty, forty-five?
A phone rang in the main room and Eddie stopped flexing his fingers. He had to get things done quickly, before a real emergency came up and the Chief was needed.
Leaning toward the door, he called out to Sharon Mays, the weekday dispatcher and part-time secretary and file clerk. “Sharon. Can you ring me the warden up at Everglades Correctional?”
“Sure thing, Johnny Ray,” the middle-aged woman answered. A couple of minutes later she said, “Miguel Ramos on Line One.”