Rain of the Ghosts

by Greg Weisman

  “’Bastian’s armband.” With one arm she was reaching into the bag, searching, searching.

  Charlie turned back to her and stared at the gold armband on her other arm. “Uh, Rain, aren’t you wearing—”

  “Got it!”

  Victorious, she pulled her right arm free of the duffel and held aloft a gold band identical to the one on her left. Her glory was short-lived. The boat’s engine roared to life. Victory quickly turned to panic. “I think we better get out of here.”

  And Charlie: “Now there’s an idea.” As one, they rushed to look out a porthole. The dock was already sliding away. Within seconds, the Bootstrap had cleared its berth and was pulling out to sea. “A little late, maybe.”

  From the shore, Maq and I watched as the cruiser was shortly swallowed up by the rain and fog. Thunder rumbled in the distance. We shared a single thought: Finally.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ’BASTIAN

  The Bootstrap motored out beyond the harbor and the bay and proceeded northeast through the rain and choppy seas. At the helm, Callahan wore his customary contemptuous scowl, but he had no idea that two panicked teenagers were below deck, staring out a porthole at the fog-laden night. They turned toward each other. Rain whispered, “Now what do we do?”

  “Pray for an iceberg?” It was the best Charlie could come up with, plan-wise or gallows humor-wise. His eyes scanned around for some source of hope. Instead he found a source of confusion. Rain was wearing one armband, holding another. “Uh … are there supposed to be two of those?”

  Rain looked down at the twin bands. It seemed to take a second for them to register. Then some kind of internal switch got flipped, and she rushed back across the cabin to Callahan’s duffel. She pulled the armband off her arm and stuffed it into the bag. Her mind was working out what must have happened as she relayed it in a low whisper to Charlie: “Callahan stole mine so he could replace it with a fake. That’s why I couldn’t find anything when I searched his room. And why he wouldn’t leave the Nitaino. He had already taken the real armband out of the Inn so he could have a copy made, and he needed to stay put until it was finished.” She pointed at the duffel. “He must have planted this phony in Mom’s laundry today.”

  Charlie was wildly unconvinced. “Why?”

  Rain shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  She held up the real armband to examine it. It caught the light, which glimmered off the golden snakes, until they almost seemed to come to life in her hand. “Why would anyone go to all that trouble to steal a family heirloom…?” She smiled slyly. “… And still fail.” She slid it up her left arm, where the two serpents came to rest around her biceps like warm old friends.

  Instantly, the armband no longer required the cabin’s light. First came the lightning: a silent, double strike out at sea. Then to Rain (but not to Charlie) the armband began to glow softly white from within. And like a genie out of a bottle, the Dark Man materialized before his granddaughter’s eyes. Gratefully, ‘Bastian’s spirit said, “Rain,” his voice clear as a bell in her mind. “Raindrop.”

  “Papa,” she whispered. They moved to embrace. But their arms passed right through each other. She reprimanded herself, I knew that. But she was disappointed nonetheless. She sadly pulled away.

  His shoulders sank. “Sorry, I’m not all … here.”

  She reached forward to reassure him, barely remembering the lesson she had just learned in time to stop herself and pull away. This is gonna take some getting used to. “It’s not important,” she said aloud.

  “At least you can hear me now,” he said, too loud. Not at all like the smoky voices of Tommy’s ghost or Pete’s.

  “Shhhh!” Rain hissed. “Callahan’s on deck.…”

  ’Bastian glanced over Rain’s head at Charlie, who stared as his friend held a conversation with empty air. Charlie really tried; he concentrated with all his might and squinted in ’Bastian’s general direction. But there was nothing there. “Don’t worry,”’Bastian said, trying for her sake to “speak” at a lower volume. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can see and hear me.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she said as she turned back and asked Charlie, “You’re not getting any of this, are you?”

  Charlie grumbled, “I’m getting you to a doctor—as soon as possible.”

  Charlie watched Rain turn away and say, “Ignore him” to the room. For a second nothing happened, then she struggled to stifle a laugh.

  Charlie felt the blood rise in his face, “Hey! What’s he saying about me?” And then hearing his own words, he stiffened. Oh, great. I’m starting to believe this derangement.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. But the storm had chosen to build rather than approach.

  “How is this happening?” Rain asked.

  ’Bastian shook his head. “I’m not sure. But it has something to do with the snake charm. I seem to be tied to it. I go wherever it goes. And during the day … I think I sleep inside it.…” He didn’t sound too sure.

  Unconsciously, Rain’s right hand rubbed back and forth along the armband. “What is it?” she asked. “What do you know about it?”

  “Not enough.” A hundred unhappy memories—everything he had never told Rain about the war and the crash and his old life—flooded over his countenance.

  With a clarity as crisp and immediate as the day it happened, he flashed back on the Island Belle’s cockpit. The windshield was shattered and the B-17 was quickly filling with water. We’ve crashed, he thought stupidly. She brought us down, and now we’re sinking! He tried to move, but his ankle was trapped between the mangled dash and his seat. Pain from his calf and thigh tore through his brain. His hand came away from them, wet and sticky. And when the cold salt water flowed over his leg and into the wound, he screamed. He tried to regain his senses. Stay calm! Stay calm! There isn’t much time! You can’t save your men if you don’t save yourself! He inhaled deeply and dove down beneath the waterline, using both hands to pry his injured leg free. By the time he had won his release, the cockpit was completely submerged. He couldn’t breathe. Thoughts of his crewmates had disappeared. I can’t breathe! He swam out through the broken windshield. His lungs burned. He tried to stay calm, to stay focused, to simply move through the water. But am I even heading toward the surface? There was no air left, nothing left. I’m going to die.

  Rain prompted him: “How long have you had it?”

  ’Bastian looked at her. His ethereal body took a deep breath that didn’t actually draw in any air. “There was this accident,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. “Joe told us.”

  Joe. Of course. The only one I didn’t kill. He nodded. “A rescue boat found me treading water. I was in a pretty bad way.” In his mind, the image shifted from the plane to the infirmary at Tío Samuel Naval Base. Here the memory was less distinct. A room so white, it practically glowed. The walls were white. The sheets were white. The bed was painted white. ’Bastian couldn’t focus on anything. The whiteness overwhelmed him, seared him. He was burning up. “I guess I was feverish. I nearly died.”

  Then two old hands reached toward him. They slipped the snake charm onto his wrist. It felt cool and soothing. Is it glowing too? Not white, but gold? He realized he had been thrashing in the white bed only as the thrashing stopped. Only as he finally fell into a deep sleep.

  And in the present, woke anew. Old images faded but the old wound still ached. Can a ghost feel pain? Phantom pain, he supposed. He looked at his granddaughter. “The charm belonged to my grandmother. I had never seen her without it. When I was sick, she put it on my wrist. My abuela always said it was her snake charm that healed me. I gave more credit to the doctors. But now … well…” he finished dryly, “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  He reached toward Rain’s left arm, stopping just short of not being able to touch the charm. Rain grinned, practically bouncing on her heels. “I’m just so glad you’re back. You are never going away again.”

&nbs
p; He turned so she wouldn’t catch his pained expression. “Raindrop…” he began, but he was interrupted. By the sudden lack of sound. The engine had stopped.

  “What the devil?!” In the forecabin, a confused Callahan stared from the water to the controls and back again. He quickly tested the ignition. Tested it again. “Come on!” Click. Click. Click. It wouldn’t turn over.

  “Blast!” He slammed his fist against the panel. He crossed the deck through the soft rain and yanked open the hatch to the main cabin, leaping down the steps, not bothering to close the hatch behind him. Without stopping, he proceeded across the empty room.

  He didn’t notice two sets of eyes peering through the wooden slats of the now-closed closet door. Inside the cramped cabinet, Rain and Charlie tried not to breathe. The handle of the metal detector was pressing into Charlie’s back, but he was too scared to move.

  Callahan opened the door to the engine room (more like an engine closet, actually), letting a sliver of light into the dark, dank space. He reached forward and pulled a chain that snapped on a free-hanging lightbulb. He didn’t see the Eight, standing in a circle around the engine itself, holding their hands over it, willing it to stop. But ’Bastian, standing behind Callahan, did see them. My boys, he thought. Then he called out to Rain, “Looks like we’ve got a little help!” Inside the closet, Rain flinched. She had to remind herself that no one else could hear ’Bastian no matter how loud he yelled.

  Callahan took a step forward, walking through a smoky Bear Mitchell without noticing or stopping. He knelt down beside the engine and spoke to it threateningly, “Now what’s your problem?”

  ’Bastian kept ricocheting back and forth between behaving like the living and enjoying the freedom of a ghost. He moved stealthily to the closet and whispered through the door, as if afraid Callahan might hear. “We’ve still got to get you two out of here and off this boat.” He searched the cabin with his eyes, which lit upon the scuba gear. “That’s it. We’ll sneak you out under the water. He can’t hurt what he can’t see.”

  “Can’t see a bloody thing wrong.…” Callahan growled. He reached over with a big paw and pulled a rusted toolbox closer. It scraped along the floor, stopping in the middle of Ducky Simpson’s foot. Callahan flipped open the lid and fished out a large wrench, which he began to apply to a bolt that held the engine casing in place. Big Harry and Little Harry lowered their hands over the bolt. It wouldn’t budge. Callahan shifted his stance to get more leverage, knocking the door partially closed in the process with his butt.

  ’Bastian saw their chance. “O.K. It’s now or never.”

  Inside the cabinet, Rain reached out to open the door. Charlie grabbed her hand to stop her. Is she nuts?! Without speaking, she looked him straight in the eye. He allowed her to remove his hand from hers. Under her steady, sure gaze, he allowed her to open the door. They slipped out, practically on tiptoe.

  Excited and again too loud, ’Bastian spoke: “Grab up the scuba gear.” It so startled Rain, she nearly tripped back into Charlie. This time he steadied her.

  ’Bastian pointed toward the semi-closed door to the engine room: “Careful, he’s right in there.” Rain gave her grandfather a look and reached out both hands in a gesture that clearly indicated she was ready to strangle him right about now. Then she turned to Charlie and pointed toward the scuba gear.

  But Charlie was too stressed to focus. He held out his hands helplessly, not getting her drift at all. Rain took his arm and guided him over to the gear. They took the bare minimum. Both slipped on masks and grabbed up flippers. Rain carefully hefted an air tank onto her back. It was awkward going. Charlie cradled his air tank in his arms, then impulsively reached for an underwater flashlight. The air tank slipped from his grip. He fumbled for it desperately and just managed to catch it painfully on his foot. A panicked Rain reached over, steadying the air tank with one hand and slapping another over Charlie’s mouth, muffling his cry.

  But not enough. Callahan froze at the sound. He regripped the wrench like a weapon and turned toward the door. Slowly, he pulled it open and peered into the main cabin. There was no one there.

  No one in his view at least. Rain and Charlie were pressed flat as possible against the common wall that the cabin shared with the engine room. They were closer to Callahan than the engine itself, but they were just out of his line of vision. For a tense beat, none of the players, including the invisible ’Bastian, moved. Finally, slowly, Callahan turned back toward the engine—though he was careful not to let the door close again.

  Once again, Callahan applied the wrench to the bolt. The wrench slipped and smashed his thumb against the engine’s metal casing. He inhaled through his teeth, then shouted, “Blast!” Furious and frustrated, he began slamming the wrench against the bolt over and over. “Blast! Blast! Blast! Blast! Blast!!”

  ’Bastian saw that the man was fully focused on his outburst. This time the new-minted ghost managed to keep his mouth shut and simply signaled Rain to move with a wave.

  Rain turned her head to Charlie and jerked it toward the open hatch. Then she led the way out, under the cover of Callahan’s still banging wrench. It was still hard to move quietly with all they were carrying, but somehow they managed.

  ’Bastian stayed behind to keep an eye on Callahan. Or at least he tried. Without warning, he was suddenly pulled backward toward the hatch by the power of the snake charm. Embarrassed, he tried to recover his dignity as he was tugged along, unconsciously checking to see if his old crew had noticed. Then he raced after the others, running up the steps as if he were alive.

  It was still raining softly on deck, but the sea was quiet and the fog had lifted for the moment. The storm remained a distant threat, as if waiting for her moment.

  Rain and Charlie looked out toward Tío Samuel—not too far away across the water. They put on their flippers in silence. Charlie picked their shoes up off the deck. Then with a resigned shrug, he dropped them into the ocean one by one.

  ’Bastian slid up to Rain. He whispered, “Slip into the water. When you get far enough away so that he can’t hear you, ditch the tanks.” He pointed to the island. “It’ll be a swim to Tío Samuel, but I’ve seen both of you handle tougher. Miller’s there.”

  Rain stopped him, whispering, “He is?”

  “He has a job as a night janitor.”

  “How do you know that? Is it a ghost thing?”

  He frowned. “I know nothing about ghost things. Wish I did. Too new at it I guess. No, Miller got the job two weeks ago when you dad couldn’t use him on the boat. Navy gives him free room and board, plus days and weekends off for surfing Tío Sams’ beaches, which are off-limits otherwise. He was bragging about the waves last time I saw him.”

  An anxious Charlie grabbed Rain’s arm. “What’s going on?”

  ’Bastian returned to his main point: “Miller can get you back to San Próspero.” He smiled nervously and pointed at the snake charm. “And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

  She smiled and turned to Charlie, pointing toward Tío Sam’s. He nodded confirmation. They both turned to climb down off the boat. Unfortunately, they turned in opposite directions, and their air tanks collided with a very loud CLANK! They froze, as the metallic sound echoed across the water. Slowly, all three of them looked toward the open hatch.…

  Below decks, the clank still echoed. Callahan wasted no time. Gripping the wrench, he leapt to his feet and ran out into the main cabin through Bear, who seemed to take no more notice of Callahan than Callahan did of him.

  Scooping up the harpoon gun with his free hand, Callahan raced toward the hatch. He ducked his head like a bull, then charged out onto the deck in time to see the two kids fall backward into the water. Without hesitation, he dived in after them, fully clothed and well armed.

  Rain and Charlie were already swimming away, side by side through the dark silent water. Charlie clicked on the flashlight and swam unawares toward the semitransparent, softly glowing apparition that gently bobbed up an
d down in the sea. But Rain saw him. The Dark Man, her grandfather, young and handsome and “rakish.” He was completely submerged but dry by all appearances, still dressed in his bomber jacket and standing upright, as if on some nonexistent nodding plateau. He pointed back over her shoulder, his voice—unaffected by being underwater—rang in her mind: “Look out!”

  Rain turned in time to see Callahan take aim with the harpoon gun. She tried to move. He pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HEALER

  Rain was still flailing to get out of the way when she felt the harpoon tear across her skin. She screamed through her regulator as the pain burned from her left arm up into her brain. Charlie yelled too. He reached toward Rain, unsure of how to help. The harpoon had grazed her below the shoulder, and the flashlight revealed the dark red discoloration of her own blood in the surrounding water. Then something slightly lower caught her eye. One of the gold snakes on the armband was beginning to glow, and both Rain and Charlie could feel more than hear a distinct hum in the water, like an electrical charge building. Rain saw the golden glow move rapidly up her arm to her new wound. The glow engulfed the wound and plunged inside it. Just as quickly, the gleam faded—leaving her completely healed.

  Rain and Charlie had barely an instant to stare at each other through their masks. Charlie hadn’t seen any glow, but when he’d seen her arm heal—the wound vanishing before his eyes—he nearly swallowed his own regulator. To Rain, the glow had felt warm and wonderful; her pain was gone.

  But Callahan wasn’t. He hadn’t reloaded, didn’t have a second harpoon, so he released the gun and swam toward them, brandishing the steel wrench. His massive legs propelled him rapidly through the water, despite the long khakis he wore and his lack of flippers.

  ’Bastian, furious that this monster would fire on his Rain, moved to intercept, yelling, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?!” He took a useless swing at Callahan, but of course his ethereal fist passed right through its solid target. Unaware of his ghostly opponent, Callahan swam through ‘Bastian toward the kids. He was almost on top of Rain, who remained stunned and focused on her healed limb. A desperate Charlie rolled back in the water and kicked Callahan with his flippered feet. But kicking Callahan was like kicking a block of granite. Charlie’s heroism delayed their foe for mere seconds, and the kick pushed Charlie further from Rain than Callahan was.