Ghosting

by Edith Pattou

  My heart starts pounding.

  Oh god.

  What have I done?

  MAXIE

  When Brendan sticks

  his gun

  up through the moonroof

  and deliberately lets off

  two shots,

  my whole body goes

  numb.

  The shots are loud,

  painfully

  deafeningly

  loud.

  I can see Felix’s lips move,

  but can barely hear

  the words.

  He reaches over

  and takes hold of my

  ice-cold hand.

  Put the gun away, Brendan, I hear Anil say through the buzzing in my ears.

  His voice is strong,

  level.

  Brendan swivels his head around

  to look back

  at Anil.

  What’s wrong, Paki? Did I scare you? he asks, voice mocking.

  Suddenly the door next to Felix

  opens

  and Chloe’s there.

  Her face is crumpled,

  wet with

  tears.

  I cut my foot, she says.

  I look down

  and see

  blood

  pooling up between

  her toes,

  covering the straps of

  her silvery sandals.

  Then comes

  the scream,

  and we all

  freeze.

  What the . . . Brendan breathes, clutching his gun tighter.

  Jesus, Felix says, dropping my hand. Emma . . .

  Felix is out the door,

  so fast

  it’s like he

  disappeared.

  Then Emma

  is running

  toward us.

  She is pointing Felix

  back toward

  the car.

  We need to get out of here, she says. Now.

  Chloe tumbles past me

  to the backseat,

  next to Anil.

  Felix slams his door shut,

  sliding into the seat next to me.

  His eyes are fixed on

  Emma.

  Go, Brendan, Emma says, voice urgent.

  Then she spots the

  gun

  in his hand.

  What the hell? she says, eyes wide.

  But Brendan doesn’t let go of

  the gun.

  He turns on the engine,

  puts the car into drive,

  and

  accelerates.

  Then he deliberately

  sticks his hand

  up through the open moonroof—

  a parting shot.

  So loud my hearing goes

  dim again.

  Emma, her face livid with rage,

  knocks

  the gun

  out of his hand.

  It clatters to the floor,

  at my feet.

  Without even thinking

  I kick it under my seat.

  A few seconds later,

  a horrible,

  terrifying,

  catastrophic

  answer:

  loud popping noises

  coming from the house.

  Then more.

  Louder!

  Like the sound of

  fireworks.

  Behind me,

  or beside Felix,

  it’s hard to tell,

  comes the sound of

  glass

  shattering.

  And, right after that,

  in front of me,

  the windshield suddenly is

  blurred, cracked.

  Felix lets out

  a soft grunt,

  almost like

  a sigh.

  Brendan is weaving,

  swearing.

  Then Emma screams.

  Stop the car! It’s Faith.

  Faith?

  How could Faith be

  here??

  FAITH

  I smell:

  new mown grass

  the sweet perfume of flowers,

  roses, I think.

  I see:

  cemetery gates

  and down the block

  Brendan’s SUV,

  idling.

  I hear:

  the steady drone of cicadas

  then a few muffled popping noises

  something breaking

  a car door slamming

  a scream

  more popping, louder and closer,

  much closer.

  I feel:

  the handlebars of my bike tilt

  the sidewalk rushing up at me

  pain, unexpected

  overwhelming

  I taste:

  blood in my mouth

  MAXIE

  Emma yells again at Brendan.

  STOP THE CAR!

  But it’s like he

  hasn’t heard.

  Emma opens her door

  anyway,

  jumps out,

  while it’s still

  moving,

  fast!

  I watch her fall,

  hard,

  onto the sidewalk.

  Then she’s up,

  tries to stand,

  but her right leg

  collapses

  beneath her,

  and she is on the ground.

  Once again

  she rises,

  teetering on her left leg,

  hopping back toward

  the ghost house.

  Brendan, stop! I shout.

  He jams on the brake.

  Tires squeal

  and we’re all jerked

  forward.

  I look back.

  Emma has stopped

  and is leaning over

  something lying

  on the ground.

  Brendan wrenches open his car door

  and stumbles out into

  the street.

  Felix, I start, turning toward him.

  But Felix is slumped forward,

  the seat belt the only thing

  holding him up.

  With an icy jolt of horror

  I see

  blood

  dripping

  into

  his lap.

  ANIL

  1. Chloe, beside me,

  crying.

  Wiping the blood

  from her foot with Kleenex.

  A lot of blood

  so I’m thinking it

  must be a bad cut,

  maybe needs stitches,

  and I lean toward her

  to see if I can help.

  2. Then the window beside Felix

  splinters,

  and the front windshield

  is suddenly a spiderweb of cracks.

  I look at Maxie, her face in profile,

  and it is dead white,

  her eyes wide with shock.

  Felix, she whispers, reaching toward him.

  I see the blood then

  on Felix’s headrest,

  and, without thinking,

  I’m beside him.

  3. Gaping wound,

  on the side of his head,

  where his right eye

  was.

  Feel for a pulse.

  It’s there.

  Thin and thready,

  but there.

  Call 911, I say to Maxie. Now.

  I tear off my shirt.

  Wad it up. Gently press it

  against the wound.

  Felix groans.

  Looking into his other eye,

  I see immense pain.

  Sorry, Felix. Hang in there, I say, trying to keep my voice calm, reassuring.

  4. Maxie’s hands are shaking,

  but she’s got 911 on the line.

  Someone’s hurt. Shot, I think, she says, her voice surprisingly steady.

/>   Can hear the crackle

  of an answering voice.

  Near Walnut Creek Cemetery, Maxie says.

  McKinley Road . . . In the head . . . Might be more than one person . . .

  She’s looking out the window

  at Emma, who is crouched

  beside a still figure

  sprawled on the sidewalk.

  Hurry please, Maxie says.

  Chloe hovers beside me.

  Can I help?

  Hold this, I say.

  And without hesitating,

  Chloe puts her hand where I guide it,

  to the wadded-up shirt

  quickly filling up

  with blood.

  5. Gently I begin lowering the back

  of Felix’s seat.

  I’ve got to go to Emma, Maxie says. They want to know . . .

  No, Maxie, I say, urgent, a shooter’s out there.

  I know, she says. But it’s Faith.

  She squeezes by, out of the car,

  and disappears.

  MAXIE

  I spot the bike first,

  the front tire

  blown out,

  spokes bent

  and twisted.

  Faith is lying half under it,

  Emma bent

  over her.

  Faith! Faith, can you hear me? Emma is saying.

  Faith’s eyes are closed.

  There’s

  blood

  on her face,

  and more,

  a lot more,

  on the leg that’s pinned

  at an awkward angle,

  under the bike.

  Brendan is beside Emma,

  his body taut,

  alert.

  She was awake, talking to me, Emma is saying to Brendan, and then she just sort of stopped, and her eyes closed . . .

  We need to get the bike off her, Brendan says.

  There is no trace of

  slurring

  in his words.

  And in one easy movement

  he lifts the bicycle off

  Faith,

  as if it’s no heavier than

  a feather.

  Then he turns back to

  Emma.

  Emma, he says, get back to the car. You, too, he adds, looking in my direction.

  The drunken, slack-mouthed

  evil Brendan

  is gone.

  In a matter of moments,

  he has changed into

  the lacrosse team captain.

  Strong.

  In charge.

  I turn to go back to the SUV.

  But Emma isn’t moving,

  focused only on

  her sister.

  I think I feel a pulse, she says. But there’s so much blood . . .

  I’ll stay with her. Go back to the car, Brendan repeats.

  Emma shakes her head,

  refusing to leave.

  I notice she is holding something

  tightly in her hand.

  Something dark,

  covered with

  blood.

  It looks like

  a toy.

  Brendan crouches down,

  beside Emma,

  looking her straight in the eye.

  Despite the faint ringing

  still in my ears,

  I can hear

  every word.

  There’s someone with a gun, at the ghost house, he says deliberately. You and Maxie need to get back to the car.

  No, is all Emma says.

  An ambulance is on the way, Brendan says.

  And it’s then that I notice

  the sound of

  sirens

  in the distance.

  Emma stays where she is.

  Faith, you’re gonna be all right. I’m here, she says.

  Brendan looks at me,

  his face

  dead serious,

  and makes a gesture

  with his hand

  toward the SUV.

  I go,

  but looking behind me,

  I see Brendan,

  with that same easy strength

  lifting Emma

  into his arms.

  She flails against him,

  though it’s clear that her own

  right leg is

  badly hurt.

  Suddenly she jerks so hard

  he can’t hold her,

  and she’s

  on the ground,

  then up again,

  hopping on her good leg

  back to Faith.

  EMMA

  I am squeezing the rubber crow,

  Polly’s favorite chew toy,

  tight in my hand.

  It’s smeared with blood, Faith’s blood.

  Oh please God,

  let Faith be okay.

  BRENDAN

  I start to follow Emma,

  then hear Anil calling out to me.

  Brendan, watch out, is what I hear.

  I spin toward the ghost house and see

  the figure of a man moving toward us.

  Or maybe it’s a boy.

  With a rifle in his hands.

  Emma, I call instinctively, to warn her.

  She turns, then freezes,

  staring at the figure holding the rifle.

  She raises her hand,

  the one holding the bloody crow,

  As if to fend off

  what’s about to happen.

  I see the rifle go up,

  pointing straight at Emma.

  And I move.

  MAXIE

  I watch as

  Brendan collides with Emma,

  knocking her off her feet.

  And at the very same second

  that their bodies meet,

  one last shot rings out,

  splitting the night

  wide open.

  AFTER

  Sunday, August 29, 1:05 a.m.

  POLICE CHIEF AUBREY DELAFIELD

  Even before I answer

  the phone, I know.

  I don’t know how I know,

  but I do.

  Something has happened,

  something big, something life-changing.