by Brian Harmon
Everything felt a little hazy.
Jordan… He couldn’t get the little girl off his mind. He was supposed to save her with everyone else. But that was never possible. He was too late for that. Just like he was too late to save the woman in the dream that brought him here.
He remembered her constant barrage of questions as she followed him around. He remembered being annoyed…
YOU SET HER FREE, Isabelle reminded him. YOU SAVED HER FROM THE WORM
That was true. And it wasn’t as if he’d failed her. Nothing about her suggested that she was from a time too distant—she might’ve lived no longer ago than the late nineties—but she’d certainly died long before he ever heard of Hedge Lake.
But it still hurt.
He used the bathroom and washed his hands. He changed. He hadn’t realized how sore he was until he tried to shrug out of the coveralls and felt his body protest. How many times did he hit the ground since he arrived here? He’d lost count.
He was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted.
The phone rang. It was Karen.
“Isabelle said it was a good time to call. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did you save the day again?”
“I think so.”
“So no fire and brimstone in the forecast?”
“Not today.”
“That’s good. I don’t have an Armageddon wardrobe and I wasn’t looking forward to trying to decide between Mad Max and Resident Evil.”
“Definitely Resident Evil.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you coming home soon?”
“Soon,” he assured her.
“You going to be okay to drive?”
“I think so.”
“Pull over if you have to. Don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”
“I will. And I’ll get plenty of coffee.”
“Good.”
Eric looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look much better than he felt. He looked older. He didn’t remember looking that old yesterday.
Tomorrow he’d feel better. Or maybe the next day, since tomorrow’s sun would be rising soon.
“Holly says, ‘Good job,’ by the way.”
He smiled wearily. “Tell her I’m sorry to keep her out so late.”
“She’ll be fine. She can sleep in the guest room. It’ll be quieter than her apartment. She can sleep in.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Just tired.” He didn’t want to talk about Jordan or Fettarsetter or the bloody woman. He didn’t want to think about any of that stuff anymore. He just wanted to go home and sleep. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Drive safe, okay?”
“You know I will.”
He said goodbye and disconnected the call. He stood there, staring at his reflection. Karen wasn’t stupid. She could tell when things overwhelmed him. But she also knew that he wouldn’t keep secrets from her. When he was ready, when it wasn’t so overwhelming anymore, he’d tell her everything. He always did.
Of course, he did sometimes sugarcoat the most terrifying parts.
I’LL TALK TO HER, TOO
“She likes that,” he said. Isabelle had a way of putting Karen at ease. Karen trusted her. And Isabelle always seemed to know exactly what to say and what to let Eric say for himself.
He emerged from the bathroom, finally comfortable again in his own clothes, and made his way to the kitchen, where Mrs. Fulrick and Pete were standing over the island.
“Here,” said Pete, handing him a mason jar full of dry rice.
Eric took the jar, confused.
“It’s your phone,” he explained. “Just leave it in there a couple of days or so. It might not work, but it’s the best chance you’ve got.”
“Thanks,” said Eric, turning the jar in his hand. He couldn’t see the phone inside. He’d just take Pete’s word that it was in there. Not that it mattered. He didn’t even care about it. It was cheap and easy to replace. “He retrieved Pete’s phone from his pocket and handed it back to him. “And thanks for that, too.”
“No problem. Hope it helped.”
“It did. A lot.”
VERY HELPFUL, agreed Isabelle.
Pete looked at the phone, surprised. “How’d you…?”
“It’s complicated,” Eric told him.
VERY COMPLICATED
Pete stared at his screen, puzzled. “Okay.”
Mrs. Fulrick smiled. “And we don’t know anything about it,” she promised. “Right?”
Pete nodded and pocketed the phone. “Not a thing,” he agreed.
“I appreciate that.” He held up the final orb and looked at it. “And thanks for this, too. Turns out it was exactly what I needed.” He held it out for Mrs. Fulrick to take. “It’s the only one that’s left.”
“You keep that,” she told him. “You might need it again someday.”
Eric smiled and slipped it around his neck again. “Thanks.” He glanced over at the dining room table and saw that it was empty. “Where’s Owen?”
Pete seemed to stifle a grin. “He went back to basecamp and locked himself in the van. If I know him, he’ll hide there for a while. Mandy really did a number on him.”
Eric chuckled. He could almost imagine Owen curled up in the back of that ugly van, moping. “So what’re you going to do now?”
“Well, I think Specter Ten is officially dead. I thought I’d hang around here for a while. Mrs. Fulrick offered me a job.”
Mrs. Fulrick shrugged. “He’s a good kid, turns out,” she told him. “Not like his idiot friend.”
“I didn’t get into this because I wanted to be some kind of famous ghost hunter,” explained Pete. “That was Owen’s thing. I got into it because I believed something was out there and I wanted to prove it to myself. In all the time I spent with Owen, I never found one solid piece of evidence that I could honestly say couldn’t be logically explained. But the things I’ve seen in this house the past few hours… Well, that’s something completely different.”
“I could use someone to help me out around the place,” explained Mrs. Fulrick. “I ain’t getting any younger. And I guess I can teach him a few things about real spirits.”
“Sounds like a great partnership,” said Eric.
Pete grinned. “I think so, too.”
Eric stepped outside and put his wet shoes back on.
“You going to be okay to drive?” asked Mrs. Fulrick. “You look like shit.”
Eric laughed. He supposed he did.
“You can sleep it off in my spare room, if you want.”
It was tempting. It was going to be a long, exhausting drive home. But he needed to get far away from the triangle for Isabelle’s sake. “No thank you,” he replied. “I really have to get going. The energy of this place…”
She nodded. “The energy can be overwhelming if you’re sensitive. And that friend you mentioned earlier, the one who feels the energy for you…the one who talks to you on your phone…”
“Yeah.” Eric stared at her for a moment, considering her. “You know an awful lot about this stuff.”
She creased her brow at him. “I told you, I’m a medium. And not some phony, half-assed one, either. I know things that’d turn your hair white.”
Eric nodded. “Okay.”
Then, suddenly, she smiled. “Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe you’re someone who could teach me a thing or two.”
He smiled back at her. “You never know.”
“I’d ask you for your number, in case I ever need you again, but something tells me you’ll just show up again on your own if I do.”
“Probably. It’s what I do, I guess. But you can reach me through any recent numbers on Pete’s phone, if you have to.”
Pete pulled out his phone and checked. “Karen?” he asked.
“My wife.”
He nodded.
“Awesome.”
Something rubbed up against his leg and he looked down to see Spooky looking up at him. He knelt down and lifted the cat into his arms. His fur was still wet from the rain, but he didn’t mind at all.
Spooky purred.
“And thank you,” he said. “You saved my butt back there.”
“Did he?” asked Mrs. Fulrick.
“He did. And that reminds me: You shouldn’t have any more trouble with Fettarsetter.”
“Well, you’re just full of good news, aren’t you?”
Eric smiled. “He never saw it coming, did he?” He scratched Spooky behind his ears. “Goodbye,” he said, and then held him out for Mrs. Fulrick to take.
She promptly took a step back. “Keep it away from me!” she snapped. “I’m allergic.”
Eric stared at her, confused. “Wait…he’s not your cat?”
“I thought it was yours. I never saw it before you showed up.”
He looked down at the cat. “Oh…”
He gently placed Spooky on the ground beside him and stood up straight again. “Well, I’d better get going.”
“Take care of yourself. And take care of your friend. I’ll see you again if I’m meant to see you.”
“I will, and I’m sure you’re right.” He looked over at Pete. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” said Pete. “But I’ve already had some pretty good luck since I met you.”
Eric smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
He turned and walked to the PT Cruiser. As soon as he opened the driver’s door, Spooky jumped into the car. He made himself comfortable on the passenger’s seat and stared back at him as if daring him to try kicking him out.
“Looks like he is your cat,” observed Mrs. Fulrick.
Eric stood there, wondering.
“Might as well take him. He seems to have made his choice. And you said yourself he helped you out.”
“I guess he did.”
Eric sat down behind the wheel.
“Goodbye,” said Mrs. Fulrick. “If you ever need a good psychic, you know where to find me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He waved to them both and then drove off.
As he made his way down the long, winding driveway with Spooky purring in the passenger’s seat, he reflected on all the insanity of these past few hours.
It seemed like a dream.
Creatures from another world. Wandering spirits. An insane villain. A colossal, dimension-shredding worm… Fact truly was stranger than fiction. No one would ever believe him. Especially the part about the aliens.
Eric hit the brakes and brought the vehicle to a stop. “Wait…” he said aloud. He looked at Spooky, who regarded him with nothing more than a bored expression. “What the hell did the UFO have to do with anything?”
###
About the Author
Brian Harmon is an author of horror fiction, suspense and dark adventure. He grew up in rural Missouri and currently lives in Southern Wisconsin with his wife, Guinevere, and their two children.
For more about this author, visit
www.HarmonUniverse.com