Daniel, I'm so sorry.
Chapter 19
Abruptly, the vision dispersed, like a dark cloud blown away. Ryan gasped. His hands raised to shield himself from the men...
They were gone.
Sammy was there, his hands in Fizz's hair as he yanked him back, away from Ryan. "I'm gonna smack your fucking—"
Fizz swept his arm out, throwing Sammy off as if he weighed nothing, sent him flying across the room. Ryan heard the sickening crack as Sammy's body hit the wall.
"Sammy!" Matt rushed in, dodged around Fizz, and fell to the small body on the floor.
Ryan saw Fizz glare at Matt, and worried what would happen. "Wait!" he reached out to grab Fizz's arm, to stop him from moving. His skin was cold, slippery, like holding onto ice. Pain throbbed through Ryan's fingers, but he held on. "Y-you didn't tell me your name," he said, trying to think of something—anything—to distract him. "Please?"
"My name?" The boy turned back to him. His eyes were black, smoking.
"Y-yes. I c-can help you find your, um, your family? Or where you're buried? Tell me your name, and I'll help you."
"Ah." Fizz smiled, leaning over him. Ryan tried not to flinch, tried to stay as still as possible. He had to keep this thing away from Matt and Sammy, whatever it took.
"They took me," the boy hissed out. "Wrapped it in a sheet, and dragged it outside."
"Y-your body?"
"Yes."
"Oh-kay." Ryan swallowed, trying to think straight. He put the horrible images and feelings of mere moments ago aside, and tried to focus. "I-I can help you."
Dark eyes searched his. Ryan watched, and the black vapour seemed to recede. The eyes grew lighter, hazel in colour. Risking a glance up, Ryan saw the blood on the ceiling had stopped churning around. If it had been boiling before, now it only simmered. The stench wasn't quite so powerful either.
This was it, he realised. If he could somehow appease whatever bad feelings there were. That was what spirits wanted, right? Ryan had spent many a late night watching spooky documentaries, mostly for their comedic value. Now he was clinging onto a growing belief that he was in the middle of some crazy ghost story himself.
"You'd help me?" Fizz stared at him like he could see right through him. Ryan tried to project the clearest, most honest feelings he could muster. If it would help everyone else then, yes, he would help this... this person.
"Yes."
"Ryan, don't talk to him!" Matt stood above them. "He hurt Sammy! And Pete, and Ginger!"
Fizz rose up, glaring at Matt. The blood on the ceiling bubbled anew.
"Matt, wait!" Ryan shifted; his limbs were finally able to work, although they felt painfully sore. He tried to get up, to stop the inevitable, but he wasn't quick enough. "Don't do anything! Fizz? Come back here, talk to me."
Fizz glanced at him, at Ryan's outstretched hand.
"Come here, okay?" Ryan gestured to him. He shifted onto his knees, but he couldn't stand up. His body was stiff, sore. He didn't even have time to think about it, as Fizz snapped his eyes to the door. Ryan heard footsteps thundering closer, and looked up just as Ash burst into the room.
"What's—" he gasped, breathless. "Fizz? Oh, shit!"
"Ash!" The boy backed away, holding out a hand. "They're trying to hurt me."
"Ash, don't!" Ryan tried to grab Ash's leg as he charged into the room. "ASH!"
He couldn't stop him. Ryan could only watch as Ash ran into Fizz's arms, and they embraced like long-lost lovers. Fizz kept moving back, taking Ash with him into the corner.
"ASH!" Ryan tried once again to get up. He was in too much pain. "Fizz, don't do anything, okay?"
Fizz peered at him warily over Ash's shoulder. Ash's body appeared to sag, while Fizz held him up. "It doesn't matter now," Fizz said. "I don't need your help, Ryan."
"You do," Ryan insisted. "You—"
More footsteps echoed down the hall. Ryan hoped it wasn't Rachel. She would only go to Pete, still lifeless on the floor, and put herself in danger. He saw with surprise that it was Sheila. She was about to run to him, then stopped herself as she looked about the room. "Dear God," she whispered.
A small, blonde woman was right behind her. Ryan recognised her as Beth. She swept a glance across the room, then focussed on Fizz. Beth put a hand out, and pushed Sheila behind her, stepping into the room.
"Wait," Ryan said. "It's too—"
"Silence!" Beth barked. She planted her feet wide on the ground, pulling something from her pocket, some kind of pendant on a chain. Holding one hand out, she began to swing the pendant in front of her in a figure-eight. "Take back your energy," she said in steely tones. "Accept my light."
Her hair shone. Ryan watched, dumbfounded, as white light poured from it, stretching out across the room. The blood shied away, receding into the walls. The darkness lifted. On the other side of the room, Fizz gasped. His hands let go of Ash, who slumped to the floor.
"Ash!" Ryan tried to move toward his friend.
"Leave him!" Beth snapped. "Don't move, don't speak." She swung the pendant to a standstill in front of her; its motion abruptly ceased in mid-air, as though being held by something unseen. Ryan could see now that the pendant was wood: a cluster of different-coloured wood, bound together in a oval shape. Beth began to swing the pendant, creating a circle in front of her. The motion was calmer than before, and she stared straight at Fizz as she did so.
"Accept my light. Leave this body. Leave this place."
Fizz seemed entranced by the pendant, yet he slowly backed away to the wall. Just as he touched it, the wall shuddered, rippling like liquid. Fizz jumped away, some of the wall coming with him, as though it were sticky. He swiped a hand out, smacking the sticky tendrils away. The wall sucked back into place, becoming as it had before.
Ryan was scared. He caught Matt's expression from across the room; he had moved in front of Sammy's body, like he was trying to protect him. Fizz glared at Beth, prowling sideways. He kept his distance from the wall now.
"I will not leave," he rasped out. "No one commands me."
"Leave this body," Beth repeated firmly, still swinging the pendant. "Leave this place."
"I won't!"
"You must move on. Leave this place."
"No!" Fizz's hands clutched his head as a sob wracked out of him. Ryan watched as the edges of his body appeared to blur, and something else appeared over him. What was happening? It looked as though there were two images where Fizz should be, one overlaid on top of the other. With a wrenching cry, the images moved apart. Ryan recognised Fizz, the boy who stood in the same spot, but he didn't recognise the faded image of a young man in a suit, who staggered to the side.
The young man growled, his hand snapped out to grab Fizz's wrist. "I'm not leaving!"
"Leave. This. Place," Beth said.
Fizz stared at the young man, his eyes bright and full of tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
The man sneered. "If I can't have your body, no one will." He pulled sharply on Fizz's wrist. A faded blur the same shape and size as Fizz lifted from Fizz's body.
A second man appeared, planting a huge-knuckled hand over Fizz's chest. He pushed the faded shape back into Fizz's body.
"No," the man in uniform said, glaring at the younger man. "That's enough."
The younger man tried to shove at him, but the uniformed man stood in place.
"You can't hurt me, you fool," he said in a brusque Northern accent. "I've saved up all my energy for years, unlike you, who squandered it away."
"Bastard!" The younger man flailed at him, trying to attack.
Beth swung her pendant faster. "Leave this place!" she shouted.
Ryan watched, horrified at what he saw. The two men appeared to be fighting, but too fast for him to see, blurring in motion. A third shape—Fizz's shape—was pulled between them, and Fizz's body crumpled to the ground.
The faded image of Fizz was left standing between the two men.
"Oh, no!" Sheila raced into t
he room, dropping down beside Fizz's body. Beth followed her, swinging her pendant at the wispy forms of the two strange men. "Be gone!" She shouted, cutting her pendant through them. "Leave this place!"
The men disappeared, shrinking into wisps, and falling to the floor. Beth rounded on the third form, the one that looked like Fizz. "What's his name again?" She glanced at Ryan, a worried look on her face.
"Fi—I mean, Jamie!"
"Jamie." Beth opened her hands in the air, wafting them at the form. "Jamie, it's not your time. Go back into your body now."
Sheila knelt on the floor, moving Fizz onto his back, tilting his head up. It wasn't until she pressed her mouth to his, holding his nose, that Ryan realised the enormity of the situation. Fizz hadn't just passed out: he had died.
"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck." Ryan forced his body to move, ignoring the pain. His first thought was to go out, get help, get the defibrillator from downstairs in the bar. Then his eyes fell on the paramedic's abandoned kit bag. Oh, please, please. Ryan crawled toward it, fingers reaching out to snatch the handle and drag it across the floor. It was heavy, but he prayed that weight inside would save the day.
Ryan knew what a defib looked like; they had a smaller version in the bar. Ginger had shown him how to use it. Ryan had hoped he'd never have to. With trembling hands, he pulled a defib machine from the bag. The kit spilt everywhere: razor, safety scissors, cardiac pads. Ryan held the machine, clutching it, the pads, and wires to his chest. Then he grabbed the scissors and crawled over the floor, toward Sheila. He tried to ignore Beth, still encouraging the apparition of Fizz back into his body. Ryan put it out of his mind. He had to focus on the flesh and blood body on the floor. He placed the defib on the floor beside Sheila. The scissors fell out of his trembling hands, clattering to the floor, but he quickly picked them up again.
"One, two, three, four," Sheila grunted out, doing compressions on Fizz's chest. "That's it, Ryan," she said quickly, before bending over Fizz's mouth again. Ryan had to move fast. While Sheila breathed into Fizz, Ryan used the scissors to cut the bottom of Fizz's T-shirt, then threw them aside and yanked hard on the fabric until it ripped open.
Sheila was already waiting to do more compressions. It was all moving too fast, and with every second, Fizz's life hung in the balance. Ryan reached for the pads next. His fingers trembled too much, and Sheila had to take over.
"Let me." She snatched the pads, placing one on the centre of Fizz's chest, the other to the side. She turned on the machine. "Get back, Ryan." The machine came on—thank God—and whirred to life. "Clear." Sheila pressed the button. An electrical current buzzed from the machine. Chu-chk.
Fizz's body jerked on the floor. His eyes remained closed.
Ryan held his breath, praying, willing Fizz to wake up. Sheila leaned over his body, breathed into his mouth again. Ryan had to look up, where Beth stood above them. A perfect vision of Fizz gazed down at him, his blue eyes looked lost, confused.
"Please," Ryan told him. "Jamie, please. Come back."
"Clear," Sheila said. Ryan heard the buzz of electricity, the chu-chk sound as it jolted through the body next to him. The vision of Fizz wavered; his eyes went wide, then he collapsed soundlessly, in slow motion. Ryan watched the vision fade into mere wisps, and the wisps sucked into Fizz's body. A gasping breath had never sounded so sweet. Ryan watched Fizz open his eyes, as the boy stared up at them, sucking in air.
Sheila let out a sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh. She smoothed the hair from Fizz's face. "Well done, love. Thought we'd lost you there."
Beth dropped down next to them, laying her pendant on Fizz's heaving chest. "You're one very lucky boy."
Fizz gazed up at them, blinking. His eyes were a deep, deep blue. "I... I am?"
Ryan breathed in relief. He certainly was.
Chapter 20
Ryan's body protested as he moved, but he had to get out of that room. He had to check on Ginger. He left Fizz, dazed, in the capable hands of Beth, who had helped him to sit up against the wall. Sheila had rushed over to Matt, who was freaking out because Sammy wasn't moving.
"He's breathing," Sheila said. "Unconscious. Did he hit his head?" Her voice trailed away in Ryan's ears. Ryan staggered to his feet, muscles screaming in agony. The bodies of Pete and the two paramedics still lay lifeless on the floor. Ryan couldn't look at them, prayed they were still breathing, but he had to get to Ginger.
The sun had set, and the hallway had lost its pinkish tint. In the receding daylight, the pigeon loft felt clearer than it had in ages, but Ryan still felt suffocated. As soon as he escaped, he breathed in deep. Ginger was still on the floor, in the recovery position they'd left him in. Ryan sank to his knees, wincing in pain. Why did his body hurt so much? It was as if he suffered the results of that beating in the vision. Those awful men, the way they'd clawed and...
A sob broke out of him. Ryan closed his eyes, but it didn't stop him from seeing, from remembering. They weren't his memories. It was all too much. He curled over Ginger's body, clinging to his shoulder and the arm that hung limp at his side. Ryan hadn't cried in years, couldn't even remember the last time he had, but he cried now. A well of despair swirled inside him, and he didn't know what to do. He was hurting too much.
At first, he didn't feel the hand on his shoulder. Someone said his name and, for one hopeful moment, he thought it'd been Ginger. When Ryan looked up, he saw Beth crouching next to him. She smiled at him kindly, her pale grey eyes holding his. She helped him up to sitting, then placed something in his hand. Ryan looked down at the object. Beth's wooden pendant. It was wood, surely, yet it felt curiously hot.
"What—"
"Shh," she soothed, her hand on his shoulder. With her other, she closed his fingers over the pendant. "You're holding onto pain that doesn't belong to you," she said softly. "Let it go."
"Huh? I-I don't—"
"Let go, Ryan."
He breathed out a sigh and focussed on the awful images he'd been trying to ignore. The pendant grew hotter in his hand, almost burning. His skin tingled; a shudder ran down his spine.
"Wh-what's happening?"
"I'm taking away the pain that doesn't belong to you. I can't take away what you saw, but your body won't feel it now."
Ryan breathed again, and was amazed to find that his ribs didn't hurt. In fact, his body wasn't hurting at all. He felt oddly calm. "How... how did you...?"
"Don't worry about it for the moment." She smiled at him, patting his hand over the pendant. "Keep hold of this. You can give it back to me later."
Ryan watched her fish inside her pocket, pulling out a thin sliver of a mobile phone. He'd been expecting more pendants, not a piece of modern technology. Beth dialled, putting the phone to her ear. "Ambulance," she stated clearly.
The word brought Ryan back to the moment. Ambulance. People unconscious. Ash, Sammy, Pete, the two paramedics. Ginger. Ryan snapped his eyes back to Ginger, still unmoving. He was breathing, just barely. Ryan stared at his face, willing him to open his eyes.
Maybe Beth could do something? She was speaking on her phone, explaining in a vague way that a number of people had collapsed upstairs in the building, including the two paramedics. Ryan could hear the operator asking questions, and Beth giving replies, but he wasn't listening. In the back of his mind, he realised that Rachel was downstairs, manning the bar on her own, on a busy Saturday night. He should probably call Dom, the area manager. Or maybe he could call 'round the local pubs, and pool an emergency cover team together.
The thoughts of work whirled as he stared down at Ginger. Ryan couldn't move away, couldn't even contemplate moving away. He sat in the curve of Ginger's body, in too much shock to act on anything.
* * * *
Paramedics stormed up the stairs, crowding around Ginger, trying to move Ryan away as he clung fast. Beth told them he was in shock. Ryan could hear the words, but he didn't care. He just had to stay with Ginger. There was shouting, barked orders. More paramedics squeezed past him, going
into the pigeon loft as Beth instructed. Sheila called to them from inside, and Ryan heard her voice giving a vague explanation of what had happened.
Then the police arrived, asking questions. Sheila and Beth answered what they could.
"And do you live here?" the officer in charge asked, as two paramedics hefted Ginger onto a stretcher. They had to move him first, in order to clear the stairwell.
"Nah, mate," Beth replied, her voice affecting a vacant tone. "We're friends, we were just drinking downstairs. We came up to help. Dunno what happened. It's really weird."
Ryan left them all behind, following the stretcher down the stairs. Someone had put a blanket around his shoulders. On one level, he felt faintly ridiculous but, overall, he didn't care. It felt surreal to exit through the side door with the paramedics. Ginger's body was on the stretcher, carried across the pavement. The night sky was lit up with the now-silent flash-flash-flash of the emergency vehicles, all parked outside the pub. People he knew spilled out onto the pavement, some even blocking the road, to get a good look.
Another patrol car arrived. Its siren whirred lowly, as a warning for the gawkers to move away, as it parked on the curb. Ryan turned his back on it all. He couldn't lose sight of Ginger. He clutched the wooden pendant tightly in his hand, feeling like he was on the verge of losing his mind any moment.
Ryan was allowed to sit in the ambulance with Ginger. He climbed inside, helped up by the paramedics. They spoke to him, but he only answered if they pressed it. He mumbled, "I'm fine."
It all felt like a dream, or a nightmare. This kind of stuff only happened in movies, didn't it?
In the ambulance, things were a little quieter. The world outside was noisy, panicked, and flashing in blue. "What happened?" the voices outside kept asking each other. Muttered speculation.
"Dunno, everyone's collapsed, apparently."
A man, one of the paramedics, opened up the door. "Mind the step. That's it." He helped someone in. Ryan glanced up briefly, long enough to see that it was Rachel, then Matt, then he went back to staring at Ginger.
The paramedic got in after them, and shut the door. "Right, then, let's get going."
The Haunted Pub Page 22