Haunt Dead Wrong

by Curtis Jobling

  ‘I’m sure she’ll get back to you, mate,’ I said, patting him on the back. He felt the contact. ‘Just give her a bit of time, eh? Play it cool, Sparky.’

  We both laughed, thinking of our departed American friend.

  ‘Do you think he’s happy, wherever they went?’ asked Dougie.

  ‘He’s with Ruby. Wherever they went, even if it was just that blinding light and then nothing, it’ll be heavenly for him.’

  ‘So that was heaven, then? The light in the lift?’

  ‘It was heaven for our friend,’ I said. ‘Might be something different when yours or my time comes.’

  ‘You could’ve gone with him, y’know?’ He was avoiding eye contact with me, searching the road for the approach of his dad. ‘You didn’t have to hang about for me.’

  ‘You would’ve moaned like a whiny baby if I’d scarpered, and you know it. Nah, I wasn’t about to skedaddle and leave you in the lurch. It’s not what friends do. Not after what we’ve been through.’

  He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. Our friendship was pretty damn special, that bond keeping us together in spite of a piddling thing like death. Dougie being the kind of lad he was, chose that moment to let loose a wee parp. It did the trick, repelling me like magic.

  ‘You cheapen everything,’ I said.

  He chuckled, but I caught the briefest look. He nodded, ever so slightly. It was the closest I’d get to genuine emotion, and I was happy to take it. The approach of a car Mr Hancock had commandeered broke the mood, and not a second too soon. We were dangerously close to telling one another how we really felt, and that would never do for teenage boys. It would’ve caused a distortion in the space time continuum. Or something.

  Mr Hancock opened the passenger door of the beaten-up old estate car and beckoned his son.

  ‘Who does that hunk of junk belong to?’ asked Dougie warily from where he sheltered from the grim shower.

  ‘Reverend Singer,’ said his dad. ‘He called and asked if there was any way he could help. What a nice chap. Been so long since I’d accepted the help of others, I’d forgotten it could even happen. And let’s face it, I think the Bentley’s breathed its last.’

  Dougie and I smiled as his dad turned his attention to the car radio, searching for a vintage station. My mate had asked Stu to let his father know Mr Hancock might need a helping hand getting back on his feet again, return the chaos of his life to something that resembled order. The good reverend had wasted no time and Mr Hancock had happily taken the bait. The man who has friends is a wealthy fellow indeed.

  Dougie set off through the puddles towards the car, messenger bag across the shoulder full of comics, books and techno goodies. He lobbed it through the door and into the back seat before turning back to me. I remained standing beneath the canopy, watching my friend through the relentless summer shower.

  ‘What are you doing?’ mouthed Dougie. ‘Our ride’s here. I want to go home. I’ve spent more than enough time in this blooming building.’

  ‘You go.’

  ‘Eh?’ Dougie looked at me as if I’d just grown another head. ‘What are you on about? Go?’

  ‘I’m staying.’

  Dougie stomped across the rain-slicked pavement and tipped his head to one side, so much so I feared it might fall off.

  ‘Since when did you have an option?’

  ‘Since Bradbury. Dougie, I’m not bound to anyone any more. Once I chased after him that night, I had a new target for my attention. And when he died . . . well, I appear to have been left to my own devices, like a fart on the breeze.’

  ‘A ghost without a host.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Dougie was quiet, thinking it through. He looked disappointed.

  ‘I thought you’d be happy. You’ve been bumping your gums for months now about how you don’t get a moment’s privacy. You can’t take a dump in peace, so you tell me. Isn’t this what you wanted?’

  ‘I thought so. But now it’s happened, I’m not so sure. Maybe I got used to you, Will.’

  ‘That’s sweet.’

  ‘Let me finish – got used to you like athlete’s foot.’

  ‘Again with the cheapening.’ It was enough to lighten the mood. I could sense he was upset, but I’d had plenty of time to think about this.

  ‘So if you’re not coming with me, what’s your plan?’

  ‘For starters, this doesn’t mean I’m done with you. Gonna have to check out how this solo spectral shenanigan works, see if I can flutter my way to Casa Hancock as soon as I get a chance. You’re my best mate. You won’t get rid of me that easily.’

  He brightened at that, the old grin reappearing.

  ‘But where will you go?’

  I looked around at the entrance to the A&E, peered down the road as another ambulance approached, its blue lights flashing. Its siren whooped as it drew closer, urging Mr Hancock to shift the estate car.

  ‘I hear there’s an opening here in the meet and greet department. Be nice to give something back after all the Major did for us.’

  ‘All the Major did for us?’ exclaimed Dougie. ‘He was all goofy teeth and quiff, all mouth and no trousers! He couldn’t pass a mirror without winking at himself!’

  I grinned. ‘You know he loved you, don’t you?’

  Dougie threw me a two-fingered salute and set off towards his dad’s car. ‘I’ll see you around teatime. Come and surprise me, why don’t you?’ He paused as he reopened the door, the rain pattering down and slicking his hair down across his face. He turned back.

  The look said more than any words ever could.

  Then he was into the car, buckling up as Mr Hancock pulled a U-turn and manoeuvred past the parking ambulance. Dougie placed his hand on the window, fingers splayed Spock-style in a Vulcan salute, then he was gone. I stood alone, my throat tightening. This was it. The stabilisers were off. The water wings had been thrown away. I was on my own.

  I felt sick.

  The back doors of the ambulance flew open as a paramedic reached in, helping his colleague haul the trolley out from within. A young woman lay upon the bed, her body juddering as the wheels sprang out from beneath the gurney and hit the floor with a clatter. Her red hair clung to her face, matted dark and sticky, her face pale and white. I stood back as the two green-suited figures rushed past, met by doctors and nurses, their voices concerned as they vanished into the A&E. I watched them go, the ambulance deserted bar a driver in the cab.

  My chest was all a-tremble, leaving me lost in the moment of drama. This was going to take some getting used to. I looked into the back of the ambulance. Towards her.

  The redhead inched closer, her alabaster skin shining with a familiar blue light. She looked left and right out of the back of the vehicle, as if afraid to take that first step out. From the look on her face she was confused, struggling to make sense of the world around her. My heart shuddered as the memories of my own death came flooding back, submerging me in a fleeting moment of sorrow. Then it was gone, put behind me, my own sorry story the least of my concerns. I extended a hand toward her and at that moment she saw me, flinching fearfully, face wracked by doubt. I smiled.

  ‘The name’s Will Underwood,’ I said, and beckoned her down the steps towards me. ‘I’m here to help.’