by Drew Hayes
“Is there a storm?” Topher asked.
“No clouds outside, and nothing in the forecast. Maybe a tree fell.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see the tree that sounds like that,” Topher said.
“Well, then what the hell was that noise?”
* * *
Dark red mist gushed from the hole in the island, pooling around it like slowly clotting blood. The lighter fog was gone; it had burned away in the explosion of energy that was the doorway opening. Terrifying as the noise had been for the humans, at least they couldn’t see the circle in the center of the island glowing a vibrant red. They couldn’t see the spirits tearing their way forth, half-formed beings shambling about like mindless husks.
And, best or worst of all, they couldn’t see the figure floating forty feet above the circle, a shape woven from darkness. It contrasted well with the soft grays of the early evening sky, as though it wanted to show the world what darkness really was. Upon the top of its head, where a face should be, were two pinpricks of red light that swept across the camp, eagerly searching.
It was a wraith, all right. After dealing with her first one, there was no mistaking another. Her breath was heavy in her lungs and already, her legs ached. She could jog for miles, but a full-on sprint was more tiring. As she stumbled out of the brush, she at last had a straightaway to the dock. The man who had been working on his camera looked up at her, confusion all but glowing on his face.
For the briefest moment, she thought she would make it. And then the wraith, the dark, humanoid shadow in the sky, noticed them. It wavered between the two for only an instant before making its choice, the choice she’d known all along it would make. If it came at her, she could put up a fight. That would be a fair battle, which was why it chose the man with the camera.
Life—and death—were just so inherently unfair. There was no other way it could have gone.
* * *
The noise startled Auggie so badly he nearly knocked the camera over. After scanning the sky to assure himself he was neither caught in a freak thunderstorm, nor witness to a bombing, he’d decided it was time to head back to the main hall. Whatever that noise had been, he would feel safer with a roof over his head. It was an irrational comfort, he knew that quite well, but much like a placebo could cure minor ills if one believed it to be medicine, irrational comforts made him feel better.
He was turning to leave when he saw her. The large, purple coat hung open, her copper-colored hair was sweaty and matted to the side of her head, and she appeared to be out of breath. His immediate reaction was one of concern: clearly this woman had been running from something. She would need treatment and protection. Then he remembered that they were on private land, miles from anyone who should be about, and he grew uncertain.
As he watched, the woman opened her mouth, probably to hail him or explain herself. Before she could, her expression changed. In an instant, it went from careful consideration to shocked horror. He would have wondered what was disturbing her; however, the answer made itself apparent before the question could even form.
Auggie felt as though he were being shredded by a wild animal with claws made of ice. They tore into his back then kept going. Frozen pain ripped at his chest, savaging his lungs and heart in a single motion. Dark spots began swimming in front of his eyes, and he realized he was about to lose consciousness. He tried to struggle, to cry out, to flail futilely, but his body was useless. It was already too numb and detached to heed his orders.
The light grew dimmer, and Auggie felt himself slipping away. Just before he lost himself entirely, he heard a sound that filled his last moments with a putrid fear. It was laughter, a horribly hissing, slithering laughter that sounded like poisonous snakes fucking in a burlap sack. The laughter surrounded him, mocking him, killing him, and soon, it swarmed over him, driving out the final remains of his consciousness.
Then there was only darkness.
Chapter 5
The land had changed. It was more than the strangely-shaped huts or crudely carved trails; it was the very topography of the place The Emissary had once known so well. Once, this lake had been fed by a rushing river, surrounded by only brush and saplings. Had it not been for the cliff overlooking the lake, he’d have feared something had gone awry and that it had somehow surfaced in the wrong spot. Thankfully, the cliff loomed above, proving that the land he’d once walked upon with feet of flesh still existed, even if only in spirit.
A horrid smile split the still-unfamiliar face he wore. Perhaps it was better that the land lingered here only as a ghost. It was fitting; it was right. Without those who had once dwelled upon it, the land he knew had died. It had gone to meet those waiting patiently. So just was their cause, so right their dream, that the very earth joined them in their purpose. This thought soothed The Emissary as he ran, the thin legs cutting across the land with unexpected speed. It was slow work for one unaccustomed to bodily bindings, but he pressed on.
The night was crisp and new, and the promise of what was to come hummed through the air. All around him the energy crackled, whispering, begging to be used. Soon, The Emissary would answer its call; soon, the ritual would fling open the gates and set the world ablaze.
Tonight, the land of the living would forever be seized by the dead.
* * *
Auggie didn’t wake up so much as he suddenly became awake. There was no groggy half-step like he was accustomed to. One instant, there was darkness; the next, he was staring up at a dark gray sky, the first flickers of stars showing themselves against the infinite backdrop of space. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself to a sitting position. He expected pain to rake through him from the wounds on his back, but he was surprised to realize he felt no pain at all. Not just in his back, either: his whole body was pain free. Most in his situation didn’t notice such subtle details; the loss of the dozens of minor slivers of discomfort and injury slipped past their attention. Auggie’s capacity for observing detail dwarfed most others’, though, so as soon as he sat up, he realized something was wrong.
It was only when he looked down at his body and found it translucent, however, that Auggie even remotely considered the possibility of the supernatural.
“Don’t freak out.” The female voice came from behind him. Auggie leapt into the air, intending only to get to his feet, but hovering several inches off the ground. The speaker was the woman he’d seen across the lake, she of the purple coat and copper-colored hair. He’d noticed her just before the . . .
“What did you do to me?” Auggie demanded. It came out angrier than he really meant it to, but trying not to acknowledge the fact that he was floating in the air was sapping a large amount of his self-control.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” the woman replied. “But something did happen. Specifically, you were torn out of your physical body, rendering you a spirit.”
Auggie stared at her, mouth open as he absorbed the ludicrous sincerity with which she spoke.
“Well then, it seems you’re either completely insane, or trying to pull an incredibly complex prank on me. Did Topher put you up to this? No, he’s not that dedicated to think of something like this; it must have been Kay.”
“Look: I know denial is the first reaction to becoming a spirit, and normally, I’d try to be kind and gentle as I eased you into acceptance. Unfortunately, we’re sort of working under a clock tonight, which means I don’t have time to coddle your ass. So snap to it: you’re half a foot off the ground and see-through. If I had the technology to fake that, do you think I’d waste it pranking random guys on docks?”
“It makes more sense than believing I’ve suddenly died and come back as a ghost! I don’t even believe in the afterlife. I’m a scientist,” Auggie declared. “Why would I turn in to a ghost?”
“That part is a bit complicated, and I’d really rather not try to explain it twice. How about we head up to that hall your friends are camped out at? I’d like to get a little space between us and
the undead horde.” She pointed across the lake to the island Auggie had been trying to film when he was struck.
As his gaze followed her finger, he saw, for the first time, what was really happening: the red glow from the island’s center, the dozens of partially-formed spirits climbing their way out and milling around, the blood-red stain of smoke that surrounded the area. Auggie didn’t know that he believed in the supernatural yet—even in his current situation it was asking too much from him—but he did have a sense of self-preservation. Dead or alive, it echoed through the gut he no longer possessed, telling him to put distance between himself and anything that looked like that.
“Perhaps we could move to a better location,” Auggie agreed. “If nothing else, it will hopefully bring a swift end to this horrible joke of yours.”
“Sticking with the prank denial, huh? Well, whatever works for you.” She began walking off the dock, toward the path that would lead to the main hall.
“Answer me this, then: if I’m a ghost, why can you see me?” Auggie tried not to think about what he was doing as he moved; he merely walked as though he were on a slope and ignored the fact that he was descending from mid-air. There was a rational explanation for this. He just had to find it.
“Because I’m a medium, obviously. You can call me Velt.”
“That’s an odd name.”
“And who are you, Butch Everyman?”
“My name is August Parrish, but most people call me Auggie.” He caught up to her easily, his speed largely determined by how fast he concentrated on moving, rather than the actual motion of his legs. He drew so near so quickly that he almost clipped her, but Velt twisted away at the last moment.
“Try not to touch me,” she warned.
“Intimacy issues?”
“No, I’m . . . let’s just say it’s a bad idea for now. I’ll explain when we get to the top of the hill.”
“What is this mysterious deadline you keep hinting at? I’m already dead, according to you, so I fail to see what other tragedy will befall me.”
“For one thing, there’s a lot more at stake than just one life,” Velt told him, speaking quickly over her shoulder as she walked. “And besides that, I want to fill them in on the situation before the spirit piloting your body finds them.”
Auggie nodded his head and kept moving for a moment, before the content of her words struck him in a way that physical objects no longer could.
“Piloting my what?”
* * *
Topher was gearing up to go look for Auggie when the front door to the main hall banged open, sending a river of relief surging through the large man’s body. After the loud noise rattled the cabin, he’d grown increasingly concerned about the amount of time Auggie was taking to place cameras. He’d just finished prepping the night vision goggles, as well as a set for his partner, when the sound of the door heralded the presumed return of his best friend. He turned from the equipment table, expecting to see Auggie looking put-out and slightly annoyed, but safe.
Instead, Topher laid eyes on one of the more beautiful girls he’d ever seen. True, she didn’t have it going on in the sense that magazines would be trying to book photo shoots with her, but she had the sort of take-no-bullshit fire in her eyes and confident demeanor that Topher liked. Adding in that her damp, copper hair and curved face were traits he generally sought out, this girl could have easily stepped out of one of his fantasies.
Except she hadn’t. She’d walked in the front door of the main hall, in a camp that was supposed to be closed to everyone but them. Topher’s initial exhilaration faded as he realized this was a potential trespasser, and he might have to call the cops on this lovely woman.
“Hey,” Kay called, walking around the table. “Did I hear Auggie come in?”
“No,” Topher said.
“Sort of a yes, and no,” the new woman replied.
“Of course she did, I’m right here,” Auggie declared. He waved at Topher and Kay, both of whom had their eyes locked on Velt. Neither was giving him so much as a glance. “You know, Topher, if you’re this good of an actor, I’m going to start expecting more out of you on camera.”
“He’s not acting. They can’t hear you,” Velt told him.
“Who’s the new broad?” Kay asked. “Did Auggie hire a tech or something?”
“No, he’d have told us,” Topher responded. “Ma’am, may I ask what you’re doing here? This is private property; we’re only permitted in for a shoot. If you had car trouble or something, we’d be happy to call you a ride, but you’re really not supposed to be here.”
“I don’t have car trouble; I broke in a few days ago.” She looked them both up and down, taking the measure of each. The guy was muscular, but it was the bulky type he’d earned through weights rather than athletics. The girl was wiry and lean, but Velt knew better than to underestimate that. It was the mistake people usually made with her. Still, if they escalated the situation before understanding was reached, she felt confident she could handle things. “By my guess, you must be Topher, and the one with the messy hair is Kay. If I’m wrong, then your parents both did you great injustices when naming you.”
“How did you . . . oh, I get it. You’re a fan.” Topher treated her to a big, wide grin that would have looked ridiculously fake on anyone with an ounce less sincerity. “You’re a dedicated one at that. We’ve had people track us down on shoots before, but this was a real trek.”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Velt said.
“Sure, sure, you don’t watch Specter Quest at all. That’s how you knew our names. Don’t be shy; I think we’ve got some posters or something I can autograph.”
“Is he always like this?” Velt asked Auggie.
“Unwaveringly so.” The longer Auggie stood there with neither coworker acknowledging his presence, the more uncomfortable he felt. The truth of the matter was that Topher was a shitty liar, and Kay rarely cared enough to invest this much effort in anything, besides cameras and cocktails. Their behavior, more than the floating and transparency, was shaking the foundation of Auggie’s denial.
“Who is she talking to?” Kay asked. Unlike Topher, she was readily aware of the fact that a viewer and a crazy person who loved stabbing were not mutually exclusive.
“I’m talking to your coworker, August Parrish. Evidently, you call him Auggie, which to me just seems cruel. He’s a spirit now, and right beside me.”
Topher’s smile vanished as a storm rippled across his face. Kay tensed up as well, that nagging worry in her stomach flaring, as though it were celebrating being proven right.
“That’s not funny,” Topher told her. “I think maybe we should let the police know we’ve got a trespasser on set. Kay, be a friend and give them a call. I’ll keep an eye on Miss . . .” He realized he hadn’t even gotten this strange woman’s name.
“Velt. My name is Velt, and calling the cops won’t make my words untrue. I thought you were here to investigate spirits; it’s surprising to me how closed-minded you are to their existence.”
“Except that we saw Auggie, alive and fine, less than an hour ago,” Kay told her.
“Is it your experience that tragedies are always convenient and scheduled? I wish you two would get with the program already. Honestly, the fact that your friend is a spirit is probably one of the least impossible things I have to tell you.”
Topher crossed his thick arms across his massive chest and stared at this intruder, mind no longer awash with admiration for her beauty. Now, he was just trying to figure out how to get her off the property without causing damage or a scene. Even if they were in the legal right, a wrong move could cause bad press for them.
“All right then, Velt. We are ghost investigators, and as such, we’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the possibility of an afterlife. You say Auggie is right there with you? Well, we set up code phrases back in our first year doing this to prove if a medium had really established contact. I’ll give you one shot to
tell me what his was. If you fail, you leave this camp peacefully. Deal?”
Velt held up a finger and turned to Auggie. “Is that actually true, or is he trying to bluff me?”
“Why does it matter? We both know he can hear and see me perfectly well. This little stunt isn’t fooling anyone.”
“Humor me; just assume for a minute that maybe this is actually happening. Do you want to blow your one chance to speak with your friends? If it’s a prank, then you just stubbornly proved to be inflexible, but if it’s actually happening, think about the loss. You’re a logical guy; calculate the risk versus reward.” Velt glanced back over at Topher and Kay. “Give me a moment; he’s convinced himself that this whole thing is a practical joke, because somehow, that makes more sense than being a spirit.”
“That does sound like Auggie,” Kay muttered.
Auggie was shocked as he noticed the weary concern creasing Kay’s face. In two and a half years working together, he’d never seen her so worried about something, not even when her favorite bar had been in danger of shutting down. He wasn’t convinced about this whole spirit and afterlife nonsense yet, but he realized Velt was right. If he missed a chance to talk to his friends, he’d always regret it.
“It’s true,” Auggie told her, giving a slight nod of his head. “He pestered me about it for three weeks until I finally relented and made one.”
“Well?” Topher asked, his harsh tone making it clear that he was not buying her act.
“Well?” Velt echoed, eager to move past this issue and get down to work.
“Well . . .” Auggie said, wishing he’d selected a different phrase than the one he had. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again, he’d been significantly more skeptical at that point. With a more bashful look than he’d ever worn in life, Auggie told Velt his code phrase.