The Ghosts of Hexley Airport

by Cross, Amy

  Suddenly realizing that his father was right outside, John hesitated for a moment before pulling back from the door, which immediately swung open to reveal not only his father's shocked face, but also several other men who'd been trying to get into the bathroom. Behind them, a security guard was finally arriving on the scene. John, still terrified in case the woman showed up again, scooched back across the floor until he was leaning against the wall, staring with a wild expression in his eyes.

  “What the hell is going on here?” his father asked. “Why are you on the bathroom floor, for God's sake? It's filthy!”

  “She was after me,” John whimpered, as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Didn't you see her? She was right outside. She kept going on about her daughter!”

  “Is everything okay here?” the guard asked cautiously.

  “I think my son just got spooked.” Stepping into the bathroom, John's father reached down and grabbed his son's arm. “Come on, we have a plane to catch.”

  “But Dad -”

  “Don't embarrass me any more than you already have!” he hissed. “I'm serious, John! This is ridiculous, get on your feet right now!”

  “But she's still out there somewhere,” John sobbed, staring at the doorway as a couple of the men slipped inside and headed to the urinals. “I know she is. She'll come for me again.”

  “No-one's coming for you,” his father replied, rolling his eyes as he hauled John up from the floor. “Apart from me, to take you to the plane.” Sighing, he tried to pull John toward the door, only for the boy to slip free and step back.

  “I'm not going out there,” John stammered, trembling with fear.

  “So you're going to live in the men's toilet at Hexley Airport for the rest of your life, are you?” his father asked, watching him with a cool, angry stare. “Jesus Christ, boy, I don't know what's wrong with you, but no son of mine is going to make a ridiculous fuss like this in public. Get your arse to the departure gate right now or I swear, you're going to be grounded for the rest of the year!”

  He began to drag John through the doorway, but the boy yanked his arm free and stepped back, cowering once more in the bathroom's entrance area.

  “Move!” his father shouted, grabbing him again and this time shoving him out into the corridor, not even bothering to conceal his anger this time.

  “No!” John screamed, panicking and desperately trying to run back to the safety of the bathroom, only for his father to grab him by the waist and start manhandling him toward the departure area. “She's coming for me! Dad, let me go back! She's coming! Somebody help me!”

  ***

  Standing completely still, naked in the middle of his room, the tattooed man listened to the silence. His brow had begun to furrow, and he was starting to think that he could hear a very faint whispering sound in the distance, rising through the dark room. Standing and listening, he tilted his head slightly. By now, the whispers were a little louder, and it was clear that more than one voice was responsible. They were in the corners, watching him.

  “Still shy, are you?” the man asked, as a faint smile crossed his face. “There's no need. I know about you.”

  He watched the shadows for a moment longer, before taking a step forward.

  “I know about ghosts. I'm -”

  Suddenly a woman lunged at him from the darkness, her body naked and burned, her thin arms reaching for his face as if she meant to tear away great strips of flesh. She fell against him shrieking, but the man didn't flinch and the woman faded to nothing as her fingers reached his face.

  The man stood completely still for a moment, before reaching up and pressing two fingers against the side of his neck, checking his heart-rate. His back twitched slightly, causing the list of tattooed names to shift.

  “A little,” he muttered finally, turning and looking back across the room, as if he half-expected to see the naked woman collapsed on the floor. “That got my heart racing just a little, but if -”

  Before he could finish, he heard another scream. He turned just in time to see a little boy standing next to his bed, crying out as flames rippled across his body. The man watched calmly as fire engulfed the boy's body, burning his face to the bone. For a few seconds, the roar of the flames seemed to get louder and louder, and the inferno's light flickered bright enough to illuminate the man's faint smile, casting shadows across his pocked and weathered features. And from the heart of the fire, the boy's dead eyes watched the man, even as they burned away and became two empty sockets set into a skull.

  And then, as quickly as the boy had appeared, he was gone again.

  “Is that it?” the man asked, stepping over to the spot where the boy had been standing. “Is that all you can do? Cheap parlor tricks?”

  Crouching down, he reached out and waved his hand through the air, as if he was trying to goad the boy into appearing again. As he waited, the man's balls sagged down almost to the carpet.

  “Is it not so much fun for you,” he continued, “if I don't run and hide? Do ghosts only like appearing when they can send people into a fit of panic? Am I reacting all wrong for you? Well I'm sorry, but I'm not like all the others. When I see a ghost, I don't piss myself with fear. I know what you are. I know what you want. I'm going to give it to you.”

  He waited in the dark.

  “You must be able to see the monument on my back,” he whispered. “It's a monument to you. To all of you. It's the only monument that matters.”

  Outside, a teenager suddenly yelled something, followed by the sound of footsteps running past the house. The real world was getting on with its business, but in the darkened bedroom the naked man remained crouched on the floor.

  And then, slowly, he realized he could hear a creaking sound from somewhere over his shoulder, from somewhere in the darkness.

  He began to turn his head, so he could see his latest visitor, but then he hesitated as if he preferred to simply listen. A moment later he let out a gasp as he felt a small, cold hand touching his bare back, reaching out from the darkness and running fingertips across the list of the dead. Finally one of the fingers stopped on one particular name, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.

  Now the man turned, but all he saw was a dark, empty space.

  Still, he smiled. He knew he'd finally caught their attention.

  The creaking sound was coming from the other side of the room now, from where the man had been standing just a couple of minutes earlier. Someone out of sight, old bones were twisting slightly, moving for the first time in years. Sinewy flesh was crackling to life, long after the life had been burned away. Unseen, the faces of the dead were turning.

  “I don't have much time,” the man whispered, as if he somehow trusted that he'd still be heard. “Surely you can show me something new, can't you? Surely you've had enough time to think of a surprise. You're tired old tricks won't work on me, but that doesn't mean you should give up. Why don't you try something a little special?”

  He waited, as the creaking sound continued, slowly getting louder.

  Finally, after a couple of minutes, the man turned and looked over toward the far end of the room.

  “I can't see you,” he continued, almost as if he was taunting the sound. “You'll need to do better than this, you know.”

  Getting to his feet, he made his way back to the middle of the room, stopping as he finally saw the side profile of a woman's face in the shadows. She appeared to be hanging upside-down from the ceiling, with her long, dark hair dangling down as she stared straight into the man's eyes. At the same time, a faint metallic groaning sound was starting to fill the room, seemingly coming from the shadows above. The sound seemed larger than the room somehow.

  Looking up, the man squinted a little as he struggled to see anything at all in the darkness. He could hear a series of whimpered cries, and finally he reached up with his right hand, quickly feeling the top of someone's head.

  Outside the house, a car stopped in the street with its engine running
, casting a little more light through the crack between the curtains. This light was enough to let the man see scores of human figure above him, strapped into seats that hung upside-down from the ceiling of his bedroom. He looked in awe at each of the faces, seeing that while some were dead and bloodied, others were sobbing. Stepping forward, he listened to the whimpered cries, and finally he realized that the whispered voices from earlier were becoming a little clearer.

  “Help me,” a woman wept, hanging just in front of him. She was struggling to unfasten a seat-belt around her waist. “Please help me, somebody...”

  “I can't see!” another woman gasped. “Why can't I see?”

  “Something's wrong with my legs,” a man said suddenly. “I can't move them.”

  “Mummy,” a little girl sobbed, “we're upside down!”

  As the figures continued to cry out and struggle, the naked man stood beneath them all and watched. And as he did so, he couldn't help but let a faint smile start creeping across his face as the tortured cries and sobs of all the figures began to get louder and louder. Each of the figures seemed to be in terrible pain, but while some were beginning to panic, others were weeping and offering garbled prayers for safety and relief. And as the crescendo of suffering became louder and louder, filling his room, the man seemed utterly fascinated by the scene until finally he opened his mouth to speak.

  “You finally came to -”

  Immediately, a rush of fire burst across the room's ceiling. Startled, the man stepped back and then fell hard against the floor, while staring up and watching as all the bodies burned. His eyes wide with shock and filled with the light of the flames, he looked at each figure in turn and watched as they were consumed. Shaking violently in their seats, while still strapped upside-down, some of the figures were still screaming as flames roared from their heads and up over their torsos. Finally, the light of the blaze become so great that the naked man had to hold his arm up a little to shield his eyes.

  The heat was so extreme, he could feel his face starting to burn.

  “It's coming!” he shouted. “It's happening again!”

  Chapter Five

  “Suzie,” David said calmly, watching as the girl sat sobbing on the other side of his desk, “do you understand why I can't just ignore this?”

  He waited, but Suzie was sitting with her head in her hands as tears dribbled down from her face and onto her wrists. Every few seconds, she let out a loud, convulsive sob that shook her entire body, along with a series of sniffs. She'd been doing the same thing for several minutes by this point, having seemingly collapsed into despair, although occasionally she reached out and took another tissue from the box on the desk.

  “I know you're upset,” David continued, “and I know that you're dealing with some personal problems right now, but I can't overlook the fact that you've been stealing from the stockroom. It wasn't even for personal use, either. I found the website where you've been selling the sealed perfume boxes, Suzie. This has been going on for a while, hasn't it? How much have you made?”

  Again, he waited.

  Again, Suzie simply continued to weep.

  “I first noticed something two months ago,” he told her, “but I assumed nobody here could possibly be a thief. A box of perfume can get lost without too much trouble. It happens. But as time went on, you started taking two or three at a time, which is when I realized we had a serious problem here. So I set up a few little security cameras in the stockroom and had it record if anyone went in there during the hours when the store was supposed to be closing. I felt bad snooping like that, I felt as if I was betraying the trust of everyone who works here, but I'm sure you'll realize I was left with no choice.”

  He looked down at the screen-grab printouts, which showed Suzie in the process of taking several boxes of perfume and dropping them into her backpack. The camera had caught her red-handed.

  “You didn't seriously think you'd get away with it, did you?” he asked. “Suzie, an airport is one of the most secure places in the country. What kind of desperate -”

  “Please don't fire me!” she stammered suddenly, lowering her hands to reveal a blustered face with tear-filled eyes. “Please don't call the police!”

  “I have to let you go.”

  “But you won't call the police, will you?”

  “This has gone slightly above me now,” he told her. “Management in Swindon are going to want to know why I -”

  “I've got two kids!” she blurted out. “You've met them! I can't go to jail! You can't make me leave them and go to jail!”

  “I'm sure you wouldn't go to jail if this is your first time,” he replied. “Suzie, I'll do what I can to keep this from going any further, and maybe I can smooth things over a little. But there's absolutely no way I can let you keep your job.”

  “I'll give you anything you want!”

  “I don't want anything, Suzie. Well, I want you to promise me that you won't do anything like -”

  “And I'll need a reference.”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “I've been working here for almost a year,” she continued, wiping more tears from her face. “I need a reference from you, saying I'm a good worker, so I can get a job somewhere else. Maybe you even know of someone who might be hiring?”

  “Suzie -”

  “You owe me that!”

  “You've stolen over a two hundred pounds worth of stock,” he pointed out. “I can't, in all good conscience, give you a -”

  “I'll do anything,” she continued, reaching her right foot toward him under the table and rubbing the side of his leg, while offering a forced smile. “Anything, right here and now. Just don't tell the police. And don't fire me.”

  “Suzie -”

  “Anything you want,” she added, keeping her eyes fixed on his. “Got any fantasies, Dave?”

  He pulled his leg away from her foot.

  “Don't fire me,” she continued. “Come on, look at me. I'm better-looking than any of those old bags you've got working on the floor right now. Customers like pretty girls. They like me. No-one's gonna buy from a bunch of smelly old women. I mean, yeah, I took a few boxes of perfume -”

  “Thirty,” he pointed out. “That's more than a few.”

  “But I should be getting commission for all the extra sales I make,” she added, “so can't we call it even?”

  “Suzie, I think -”

  “I'll make it worth your while.” With that, she reached up and loosened the top button on her blouse, exposing a hint of cleavage. “We can come to an arrangement. You like girls, don't you? Your wife won't find out.”

  “I think you should leave right now,” he replied, getting to his feet. “Suzie, I've made my decision and I won't be able to give you a reference. I'm sorry.”

  “I'll blow you.”

  “Please leave your passes and employee identification on the table as you go.”

  “Didn't you grope me once in the storeroom?” she asked.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Yeah, that's right.” She leaned back in her chair. Suddenly her eyes were tear-free, and a confident smile had appeared as if from nowhere. “Several times, actually. Grabbing my boobs, making suggestions about things I could do to you. I'm sure an employment tribunal would love to hear about that. And your wife'd be interested too, wouldn't she?”

  “None of that happened, Suzie. Please leave immediately.”

  “You even put your hand up my skirt once.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “It'd be my word against yours.”

  “We have cameras all over the store.”

  “But not in the stockroom. You admitted that. Not before you set your little spy-cams up, anyway.”

  She paused, smiling at him as if she'd managed to get him exactly where she wanted him.

  “I thought you were a good, honest person,” he told her.

  “Bite me.”

  “I thought you were one of my most reliable staff-members.”

/>   She shrugged.

  “I thought that perhaps in six months, I might promote you to the role of shift supervisor.”

  “Like I said, bite me. I don't give a shit about any of that. I need this job, so why don't I bend over this desk right now, you can have a little fun, and then we'll both get back to work. Win-win, yeah?”

  “I don't know who to be more shocked by,” he continued. “You, for letting the store down like this. Or me, for not spotting it sooner.”

  “If you fire me,” she continued, “I'll make your life hell. Remember that time I walked in on you in the back room, and you were changing your shirt after some dumb bitch spilled milkshake on you? I saw that birthmark on your shoulder. I'll tell people I saw it when you were forcing yourself on me instead.”

  “You'd make up something like that,” he replied, “just to punish me for firing you?”

  “It's called lying, mate, and I'm good at it. It doesn't even matter if I don't have proof. Just the accusation'd be enough for people to start whispering behind your back. So I think it'd be in both our best interests if I get back to work, and you forget about all of this, and nobody mentions anything if a few boxes of perfume go missing every so often. Chalk it up to shoplifters. I mean, shit happens, right?”

  Getting to her feet, she adjusted her skirt before heading to the door.

  “Thanks for the chat, Dave,” she added, reaching for the handle. “Nice one. Glad we could come to an understanding.”

  “It's called lying, mate,” her voice said suddenly, from over by the table, causing her to freeze with shock, “and I'm good at it.”

  Turning, she saw that David was holding his phone, which was replaying a recording of their conversation.

  He let the recording run for a few more seconds, before closing the app.

  “Let's just say,” he said calmly, “that a little birdy from your last place of work tipped me off that you might try to pull a stunt like this when I confronted you. So for my own protection, I -”

  “You can't record me without my permission!” she yelled. “That's illegal! You have to delete it right now!”