Sitting in her room like this, feeling sorry for herself, wasn’t good for her. She left her room and went for a walk.
She moved to the great view of the universe. Ada was there again, looking out at it. She would spend an eternity here, Molly knew, looking upon the stars as they blinked at her.
“Do you see that star?” Ada said, pointing out a single dot from amongst the infinite. “It’s the most special to me. I was here when it was born. Not actually born, of course. It was born millions of years ago. But born in the way that I was here to see its first light in this part of the universe.
“I knew because I spend each night staring at one particular patch of sky, trying to remember and memorize each and every one. One day I came up here. I was about to move on to another section of the sky when I saw it. A sudden, soft throb. It was like witnessing a miracle. I was probably the only thing in the universe that noticed it. It creates a bond, that kind of event.”
Molly and Ada stood looking up at that fiery orb. A beacon of hope.
“I’m going to do it,” Molly said. “I’m going to try and reach Sam.”
Ada turned, raising her watery blue eyes to her.
“Are you sure about this?” she said. “Get this wrong, and you might ruin your chances to get out of here in sixty years, never mind six.”
“I have plenty of good memories of my friends and family,” Molly said. “I will always remember them. But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t give this a try.”
“I wish you all the best,” Ada said, putting a hand on Molly’s arm. “I’ll be rooting for you.”
“Here you are,” a deep voice behind them said.
It was Jennifer. For a big woman, she could certainly creep well. She stood towering over Molly.
Molly felt a flicker of fear before it subsided. She knew the woman would return, but hadn’t expected her to come back so soon.
“The others might not have spines,” Jennifer said. “But I do. I’m going to make your life a living hell. You can look forward to seeing me every day. I’m going to be here a lot longer than you, and I mean to make sure you feel every second of every day like I did back on Earth. With time, I’ll increase your sentence too, so we can be here together, for longer, perhaps forever. How would you like that?”
Molly thought back to the fight she saw on her first day. Not only had the instigator of the fight been punished, but so had the defender. And if a prisoner inflicted that kind of attack every day…
Jennifer would be cutting off her nose to spite her face, as she would be giving herself sentence extensions too. But by the look in her eye, Molly believed she was capable of it. Here was a woman who held a grudge. Here was a woman who would not bend.
“Is that what you want?” Molly said. “To be here forever? With me?”
“I won’t need to be here forever,” Jennifer said. “But I can do my best to make sure you are. I’ll bring all the other prisoners against you. When I leave, I’ll go with the satisfaction of knowing you’ll be here even longer.”
A flicker of black quivered above their heads as a guard descended from the ceiling. Here, finally, to take Molly to the Visiting Room.
Jennifer shivered, sensing the approach of the guard. She cowered slightly, cowed by its terrifying appearance.
“I’m not doing anything,” Jennifer said. “We’re having a conversation.”
Jennifer thought the guard was for her—to prevent her from carrying out her attack.
Molly held her breath. Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone.
“No harm, no foul,” she said.
The guard turned and headed away. Molly took a step to follow the creature. Jennifer snapped her hand around Molly’s upper arm, the electrifying energy crackling in her ears.
“What are you doing?” Molly said. “Do you want to bring that thing down on us right now?”
“It’s your Visiting day, right?” Jennifer said.
Molly gulped.
“I didn’t get any Visiting days,” Jennifer said. “I wasn’t in no one’s mind enough. So why should you get to have one?”
Molly attempted to pull her arm away, but Jennifer’s grip was firm.
“Let go,” Molly said.
“No can do, I’m afraid,” Jennifer said.
Molly’s eyes grew wide. Her one and only chance of protecting Sam and Casey was slipping away, toward the stairs. The creature would not stop and wait for Molly to follow it. Molly either kept up, or she would lose the chance to use her Visiting time.
“You need to follow it,” Ada said. “Or you’re never going to get out of here.”
Molly felt a deep surging anger in her stomach. The guard was already halfway to the stairs. If she didn’t catch up soon, she would lose it. But Jennifer was holding on tight. Her hands were large, strong. A man’s hands.
“Let me go!” Molly said.
“You didn’t say please,” Jennifer said, shifting her hand to get a better grip.
“You have to let me go! Now!” Molly said. “Now!”
“No,” Jennifer said. “I don’t think I will.”
Molly was not used to begging. And she would not beg now. Jennifer had clearly made up her mind. She was going to keep her there, prevent her from going to see her friends and family for the last time. The thought alone drove Molly to outrage.
Tears blossomed in her eyes, but as hard as she struggled, she could not get free.
“Aw, are you going to cry now?” Jennifer said. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing.”
Yes, Molly thought. She was going to cry. But it wasn’t with sadness, but hatred, anger, rage. She had rarely felt anything like it before. It tore through her. She embraced it, letting it flow through her.
Molly balled her fist and threw it at the Neanderthal of a woman. Jennifer smirked, welcoming the failed blow.
Except it wasn’t a failure.
Molly’s fist connected with a meaty slap.
Molly could hardly believe it. Her eyes widened. She had actually struck Jennifer. She had unwittingly used the power.
Jennifer lost her grip. Her eyes were wide open, in shock. She felt at her face and checked her hand. There was no blood. She still held onto her old habits of being on planet Earth too. Her face curled up with anger. She pulled her arm back to swing.
Rather than try and fight, Molly took off at a run. The guard was almost at the stairs. Molly knew she would have to be quick if she wanted to keep up with it.
She bent her head down and ran, using all her momentum to keep her arms and legs rushing forward. She heard the thud thud thud of the heavyset woman behind her. A bull in 501s.
Molly ran down the stairs and turned to look back. Jennifer might be strong, but she certainly was not fast. Molly could outpace her in a race. Please chances. Even better, she was far more agile than Jennifer, who floated like a crisp packet and stung like a brick.
Molly hopped over the railing and let herself sail down the other side. She landed badly, falling down half a dozen steps and rolling to a stop. On Earth, she would have broken several bones or at least twisted an ankle. But here, she didn’t have a scratch on her.
She blasted down the final few stairs and hopped over the next banister, and the next, until she had caught up with the guard. It was not moving fast and didn’t appear to be in any great hurry, as it wound through the corridors.
Molly turned to listen and heard the heavy footfalls of Jennifer coming down the stairwell. She was drawing near.
The guard took another turn, heading right this time. Then it took a left. Molly followed it, ran ahead of it, waiting for it to show her where it would head next.
The thud thud thud of Jennifer’s army surplus boots mirrored Molly’s heartbeat. The footfalls were so loud Molly wasn’t sure if they were getting closer or not, the sound reverberating off the solid walls.
And still, the guard kept moving forward, turning left and right, in one direction and then another.
It made a sudden turn and entered a room. Molly squeezed in after it. The door began to close of its own volition. Molly caught sight of frizzy hair and a beaming grin of insanity on the other side of the door. It slammed shut.
Jennifer banged on the door. It lasted only a few minutes before it stopped. Molly’s guess was another guard had descended and confronted her, perhaps even tacking a few extra days onto her sentence. Punishment Jennifer would certainly want to pass onto Molly the moment she emerged from the Visiting Room.
But Molly was safe. For now. She dreaded what awaited her on the other side of the door. Six years of torment. Molly had no choice but to be successful in her mission. She turned to see the glass orb once again, the clouds already beginning to shift, giving way.
Molly would only get one chance at this if she got any chance at all. If she didn’t do it, she would not only fail to protect herself in this place but fail to protect Sam and Casey too.
She dare not fail.
Chapter Thirteen
The funeral was a much more somber affair than the memorial. The memorial was about celebrating the very best of someone’s life and career, how they had affected those still alive, the world they had left a stamp on. A funeral merely celebrated the end of someone’s life.
Sam dressed in full dress uniform for the second day. There appeared to be fewer people at this ceremony than the one the previous day.
The previous night had been difficult for Sam. He had the same nightmare he’d had the day he had lost Molly. Only now it was Molly trapped in the dark world, at a crossroad he himself had struggled to overcome. Molly was suffering from the same difficulties. Something chased her in the dark, and there was nothing for Sam to do but watch.
Worse, he was in the darkness, not that he was what attacked Molly. That had been one thing, and one thing only—a whipcrack and a piercing bullet that blew into her back and rushed out the front of her shirt, tearing out her heart.
He’d woken up, rolled over, and discovered the other side of his bed was empty. He did this multiple times each night. He died a little each time it happened. These were the worst days of his life. If it wasn’t for Casey, he wasn’t sure he could carry on.
Casey came over every day with breakfast, usually bagels and other simple food items—she wasn’t much of a cook. Sam was grateful as he wasn’t much in the mood for putting in the effort to create a culinary masterpiece.
Casey also cleaned up after him around the house, sorting through the mail and dealing with anything else urgent.
Sam felt guilty but was too self-pitying to change his habits now. He would eventually. He needed time. He needed someone like Casey to help him through this, the most difficult period of his life. He was aware it must have been just as difficult for Casey, but she never uttered so much as a word of complaint. Sam suspected it was her way of dealing with it—by spending as much time keeping herself busy as possible.
“The car’s coming at three,” Casey said.
“Okay,” Sam said.
He spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready. It didn’t usually take him long. It wasn’t like he had tons of things he needed to do. He took a bath, had a shave, got dressed, and met Casey in the kitchen. He’d given her her own key the previous day, for her to use anytime she wanted.
No one had said anything after his speech divulging a little too much to the guests. He knew no one would. They would let him get away with almost anything with his excuse of being bereaved.
Casey wasn’t without signs of bereavement herself. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She had cried a lot too. Sam knew he must have looked the same. He never confronted her about it, never wanting to draw attention to her weakness, as she would consider it.
The car came on time, three sharp. The church was on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t particularly large and could have fit in the entrance of the hall they had held the memorial the previous day. It was a cute little place, picturesque, with the birds in the trees, the flowers spilling over the gravestones. A miniature park. Benches with the etched names of the unforgotten.
This time, Sam arrived first. The designers had done a great job at fitting out the space, giving it a real rustic look and feel. Molly would have loved it. At the front of the church was the casket, open. The walk to it was a long one.
As Sam drew up to it, his knees shook, unable to hold his weight. Casey was there to support him, lead him forward the final few steps.
The undertakers had done a wonderful job with Molly too. They had dressed her in her service uniform, what Casey thought Molly would have been the most pleased, proud and happy to wear.
Her face was clear and open, pale, with makeup to highlight her natural features. She never wore much makeup, and Casey had requested they not make her look like a clown on her final resting day. They had, once again, done a bang-up job.
In fact, it was a little too good. She could have been sleeping.
Sam wrapped his hands around the pallbearer handles, gripping tight. Sam looked down at the woman he had loved with all his heart. If he touched her, perhaps she would awaken. Maybe this had all been one big mistake. Doctors were known to make errors from time to time…
But he daren’t touch her, knowing she would be ice cold to the touch, and the spell would be broken.
To one side was a large photograph of Molly sporting a big beaming smile of happier times. She was in her uniform, a model of sophistication and high morals.
Sam took a seat on the front pew and waited as the church gradually began to fill. Casey sat beside him. He could feel her leaning against him, holding his arm and whispering words of support in his ear.
Others came, spoke, and then moved on. Sam was numb. He didn’t take in a single word, nor recall who had spoken to him, whether they had shaken his hand, or put a hand on his shoulder in solidarity.
Casey reminded him of Molly. She had the same toughness, the same bloody-mindedness. But there was a difference in her calmness. Casey often flew off the handle, aiming it at the nearest target. Molly suppressed her rage, preferring to aim it at something more constructive.
Sam had to remind himself he needed to use the past tense, not the present. Just like that, Molly had been relegated. A strong smell of incense hung thickly. Sam focused on it, allowing it to relax him.
Over the next forty-five minutes, the pews filled. Seat by seat, until they were almost full to capacity.
And again, Sam got the feeling someone was watching him, not from behind, where he was sure a few dozen people already had their eyes on him, but somewhere above him, looking down from the rafters.
When he looked up, he again couldn’t see anyone there. The only person at that angle was the organist. She sat very still and calm, hands in her lap, ready to be cued in to begin playing.
A myriad of people came to touch him, tap him on the back, and give him some moral support. He didn’t turn around, didn’t check who it was. Who cared?
Then the sermon began. The pink of the priest’s scalp was visible through his few remaining whispers of hair. He wore glasses and tilted his head up to read through the strongest part of his lenses.
He gripped the lectern with both hands and leaned back as if attempting to project the words out.
Music was sung, hymns Sam had long since forgotten the words to. A choir sprung into action to cover the mumbles of the self-conscious audience members. The police force was not renowned for their singing skills.
Then the funeral procession began.
Sam, Casey, and a bunch of others hand-picked for the job carried the casket on their shoulders. It wasn’t all that heavy. And that too brought a tear to Sam’s eye. She was his baby.
They were very careful as they carried her out the door, around the front of the church, and into the graveyard. They put the coffin down gently, onto a machine that would lower it into the ground.
The priest read over the casket, saying a bunch of ancient words. None of them registered with Sam. He was too
busy looking at the casket, imagining Molly’s calm expression. He wanted to jump in there, into the hole, and squeeze her so tight she would come back to life. Would come back to him. It was fantasy. It was never going to happen. She was dead, gone. And she would be forever.
She shouldn’t have been placed in a hole, he thought. This shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t have had to see this. They were supposed to live to a ripe old age, live together and be together forever. They were supposed to have a family, to watch them grow. Instead, she had died attempting to save him.
He would never forget her. Never.
He wished he had been stronger, better, faster, so he could have rescued her right back.
Those were his final thoughts as the dirt was shoveled onto the coffin lid, and lowered into the ground.
Chapter Fourteen
The funeral was beautiful. A bit too good in fact, Molly thought. It was great to be tasteful, but anymore, and it was plain gratuitousness. The design was well done, with enough teary-eyed mourners to keep any ghost happy.
It was a sad, mournful affair, not the kind of thing you’d want to see every day. She understood these people were there to say their goodbyes. She recognized faces from a dozen walks of life, some people she had helped in the course of her career, others she had met through school or other academies. They were all here. It seemed strange to see them here together, like all her worlds had converged.
Molly needed to be careful, to pick the right moment to make her move. Out the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the guard, watching the scene below. It gave no outward sign it understood what it was even looking at.
Molly had no idea what was going to happen once she touched this creature. It was from another world, existing on a plane she did not understand. For all she knew, it might transport her to the dark recesses of the Underworld. She might get taken somewhere else, somewhere far worse than the Halfway House.
After/Life: Anger: A Paranormal Ghost Romance Page 7