Cold Summer Nights

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  Tears slipped over the edge of her eyelids. “I don’t know,” she said, dropping her face into her hands. “I don’t know what’s happening or why.”

  “Say, everything okay, boss man?” Clark asked, sitting up. “You sleepwalking or something?”

  Rusty glanced at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation with a dead girl here.”

  Clark stared at him and swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the tiny cell. “Dead girl?” he muttered, hesitantly waving his stocky hand through the air. When it passed through Summer’s jeans, he didn’t even notice.

  Rusty watched him, astonished by what he was seeing. “You don’t see her?”

  Clark pulled his hand back and scooted against the wall without responding.

  Rusty’s head snapped around to Summer. “Let him see you.”

  She looked to Clark and then shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “There’s no time.”

  “What do you mean there’s no time?”

  “Did it just get cold in here?” Clark asked faintly, wrapping a blanket around him that didn’t cover much.

  “Quiet down in there,” a guard sneered as he strolled past on his late night rounds.

  Rusty returned his attention to Summer and took a few steps back. “You killed Nick,” he whispered.

  She shook her head, her long thin hair jiggling over her face. “No,” she said, tears rolling down her ashen cheeks.

  His breath came hard and fast. “You killed Amy too and Nick knew it, and that’s why you killed him.”

  “No!” she cried, wiping her face with her hands. “I don’t know what…” She trailed off and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “It’s just that sometimes I have these dreams, with this...horrible anger.”

  Rusty snorted. “Yeah, probably because you’re a little pissed off that you were murdered!”

  Clark jumped at the exclamation, the color draining from his scruffy face. “Oh sweet Jesus, Russ, please don’t murder me. I’m not a bad guy, just give me a chance.”

  Rusty ignored him, his eyes still fixed on Summer. “The eternally tormented soul, left alone to haunt the Earth until you exact your revenge,” he scowled. “But you can’t control everything. Can you?”

  Summer broke her stare with Rusty and rubbed her arms like she was cold. “Sometimes I wake up in strange places, and don’t remember how I got there.”

  “Well it wasn’t a cab,” Rusty said curtly. “You’re that…thing.”

  She shook her head, refusing to believe it. “No!”

  “If you’re really dead, then why are you still here? Why aren’t you in Heaven or Hell?”

  Summer took a step towards him and opened her mouth, reminding him of a pasty vampire in need of a long drink. He flattened himself against the wall and she stopped, tears consuming her face.

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “All I know is I’m stuck and I’m scared.”

  “You’re scared?” he laughed. “After what you did to all those people, you should be burning in Hell!”

  She shook her head, making tears splatter the floor.

  “Please don’t kill me, Russ,” Clark said feebly. “I didn’t touch none of your stuff. I swear it.”

  “Those people had families,” Rusty yelled.

  Clark flinched on the narrow bed.

  Summer’s eyes grew thin and she took a step closer. “I had a family!”

  Rusty watched her start pulling at her hair. “They were good people who didn’t do a damn thing to deserve what happened to them,” he said in a hushed tone.

  Her hands covered her mouth. “I know they were, it’s just that...I don’t know,” she sobbed.

  “Why didn’t you kill me?”

  “I would never kill you, Russ. You’re my celly,” Clark said, with a nervous chuckle.

  Summer wiped her eyes and swallowed. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Rusty laughed. “How? In case you haven’t been keeping up on your current events, I haven’t been grounded by my muggle parents.”

  She glanced to the iron bars and turned back to him. “Leave that to me. When this cell door opens, go to your left until you see me.”

  His jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Just trust me. We can figure everything else out after we get out of here,” she whispered.

  Rusty’s mouth fell open as a dark realization slowly slid across his face. “You’re going to kill the guards…”

  Insult washed over her face. “What? No!”

  “Oh okay, just some of the guards?”

  “I’m not going to kill anyone; you just have to trust me. You’re in here because of me and if I can get you out, then that’s what I’m going to do. That much I can control.”

  “And then what?” he snickered. “Am I just supposed to just go back home again? Get a new job at a Footlocker in the mall?”

  Summer stepped closer and took his hand. This time he didn’t pull away. “My car is just outside and I have access to more money than you could spend in ten lifetimes,” she whispered.

  His brow folded. “From where?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Think about it. I got in here, didn’t I?”

  He looked to the iron bars preventing him from leaving. “So what are you saying? You’re a bank robber to boot?”

  “I never robbed no bank, Russ,” Clark piped in. “I just killed a few people, but that was an accident.”

  Summer and Rusty both looked over to Clark, who was busy keeping a worried eye on Rusty.

  She turned back to Rusty and squeezed his hand again. “Do you want out of here or not?”

  His gaze drifted from Clark to the drawings of the chickens, to the silver toilet with no lid. He groaned. “You better not be screwing with me. After what you did to my friends…”

  “I told you, I didn’t…”

  He waved a hand through the air. “Yeah, yeah, you’re alter-psycho-ego did it. Good for you! I hope that clears your conscience.”

  She took a deep breath and glanced to the bars again. “I’m going to create a diversion. Be ready.”

  He threw his hands on his hips and exhaled a tired breath. “You swear you won’t…”

  “Don’t worry, no one is going to get hurt,” she cut him off. “I promise. Now, when that gate opens in a few minutes, take a left and keep going. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her how crazy she was and that the only way he was getting out of this place was inside a body bag. It didn’t matter if she could walk through walls or not, he couldn’t. Not to mention they could see him, whether he wanted them to or not.

  He sighed instead, deciding he had nothing to lose at this point. He was already a branded cop killer and no jury was ever going to believe any of this ghost stuff. At best, he’d be lucky to knock off a few months in a county psyche ward before spending the rest of his life behind prison bars.

  She flashed a bright white smile at him before turning and walking right through the iron bars.

  “Wow,” he mumbled, watching her disappear down the hall to the left.

  Clark followed Rusty’s gaze. “If I try to wake you up, are you going to try an kill me?”

  Rusty slowly turned to him. “I can’t believe you couldn’t see her.”

  Clark’s forehead wrinkled. “See who, Russ?”

  Rusty shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, Clark. What matters is, this gate is going to open up in a few minutes and I’m walking out of here.”

  Clark looked to the thick bars and let out a nervous chortle. “Awe hell.”

  “It’s up to you if you want to come along or not.”

  Clark scratched his head. “So there was a dead woman in here, and now she’s gonna set you free?”

  Rusty slowly nodded.

  Clark clicked his head to the side and back. “Now, that’s a new one.”

  Rusty turned back to the bars.

  “I just hope ya don’t get
too upset if things don’t work out so hot, Russ. A lot of people have trouble adjusting to this lifestyle, believe me I’ve seen it.”

  Rusty snorted. “You ain’t seen nothin yet.”

  Clark arched a bushy eyebrow at him.

  Rusty looked at him and narrowed his eyes. “So, how many people did you kill anyway?”

  Clark dropped his gaze to his meaty fingers and began cracking his knuckles. “Four kids,” he said softly.

  Rusty frowned. “Four kids?”

  “It was an accident,” he quickly added, with a couple pops. “I got off work at noon one day after a small warehouse fire and a bunch of us went out to a couple bars for the afternoon. On my way home, I blew a red light and t-boned a Nissan Maxima with four teenagers inside.”

  “Oh man,” Rusty whispered. “That’s horrible.”

  Clark nodded glumly. “It really was,” he said dully, staring blankly at the wall. “It was my third DUI too, so they locked my ass up and threw away the key.”

  Rusty glanced down to his prison issued orange tennis shoes. “That really sucks.”

  “For those poor kids and their families it sure did. Wasn’t much better for my wife and kids either. Kinda hard to put food on the table for your family when you’re stuck in the clink.”

  Rusty thought he saw tears running down Clark’s cheeks but it was hard to tell in the shadows from the low light. If there were, Clark didn’t bother wiping them away.

  “If I could go back in time to that day, I’d just go home to my family instead of out to those damn bars. Think about it every single day too. If I could only go back in time,” he said mournfully.

  Rusty took a seat in the small desk chair. “How long ya been in here?”

  Clark rubbed his hands together like he was cold and looked up. “Thirteen years.”

  “How much longer do ya have?”

  “Well,” Clark said with a short laugh. “I’m forty-four now, so however long it takes me to die, hopefully not much longer than another thirty years or so.”

  Rusty looked back down to his shoes. “I’m sorry to hear that, Clark. I really am.”

  “Me too, Russ. Me too.”

  Rusty glanced out into the hallway, guessing there were a lot of stories spun from the same spool of yarn as Clark’s in this place. Stories about being in the wrong place at the wrong time and wishing you had a time machine to do it all over again. Stories about burning second and third chances to the ground.

  “Well your little ghost-friend sure is taking her sweet paranormal time,” Clark chuckled.

  Rusty glared at him and Clark dropped his smile.

  “Say listen, Russ, I didn’t mean...”

  “The question is, what are you going to do when this cell door opens?” Rusty asked, jerking a thumb towards the bars.

  Clark turned to the door and snorted. “Shoot, that gate slides open and there ain’t any guards in sight…” he paused. “I’m right behind ya.”

  Rusty smiled.

  “If that’s okay with you, boss?”

  Rusty shrugged. “More the merrier.”

  “Sounds good,” Clark said, lying back down in his bunk. “Wake me up when it happens.”

  Rusty watched him close his eyes and then turned back to the cell door, wondering if Summer had really been there or not.

  “Say Russ?”

  “Yeah Clark.”

  “Promise you’re not going to kill me in my sleep?”

  A light laugh escaped Rusty’s chapped lips. “I promise.”

  Clark yawned and scratched his balls. “Actually, I don’t give a rat’s ass. You do what ya gotta do. I’m sure I got it comin.”

  Rusty stared at the big man, trying to comprehend how his family had survived such a tragic accident that not only took the lives of four innocent teens, but the life of Clark as well. The cell door began sliding open, jerking Rusty from his thoughts.

  Clark’s eyes popped open and stared at the underside of the top bunk.

  For a moment Rusty was paralyzed, unable to command his body into motion. It felt like everything was some movie he was watching from his couch with a four beer buzz and Chili Cheese Fritos crumbs all over his chest. Finally, he rose from the tiny chair, feeling like he had gained a hundred pounds. “Show time, Clarky boy,” he whispered.

  Clark swung his bare feet to the cold floor and stared at the open door. “Sweet Lord almighty,” he muttered, putting his orange shoes on.

  Rusty glanced up and down the hallway, waiting for guards to swoop inside at any second.

  Two men stirred in their cell across the hall and slowly approached their cell door. They gripped the bars, trying to look up and down the corridor. They turned back to Rusty and Clark, eager to see what they would do next.

  “Go for it, motherfuckers,” the tall one whispered. “There ain’t no one comin!”

  Rusty and Clark swapped nervous glances. There was no sign of patrolling footsteps, talking, or radios squawking unintelligible codes anywhere in earshot.

  “Hey, man,” the short pudgy one whispered. “Go push the button on cell 217.”

  “Yeah, dude,” the tall one said, smiling and pressing his face between the bars. “Get us out of here, please!”

  Rusty and Clark took a small step outside their cell, glancing up and down the long corridor.

  “Wait,” the pudgy one yelled.

  Rusty and Clark froze, the color draining from their faces.

  “What if all the guards are dead?” the pudgy man asked, worry flickering across his face. “Don’t leave us in here to rot! There could be a zombie uprising or some shit, man! Why else would your door just open?”

  “Take it easy,” Rusty whispered, pushing his hands down through the air. “We’re going to get everyone out of here,” he lied. “You just keep an eye on our backs.”

  The short portly one nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah, we got your backs. Go now, it’s clear,” he whispered.

  “Don’t forget,” the tall one said, nearly slipping his thin head through the thick iron bars. “Cell 217,” he pleaded with a friendly salesman-like smile.

  The fat man grinned with him. “I swear to God, we will do whatever you want us to, man. I can make chocolate chip pancakes and wash laundry.”

  The tall man nodded feverishly. “Yeah, yeah, and I can make some of the meanest scrambled eggs you ever seen. We’ll have breakfast for every meal!”

  The fat man let out a short whistle. “Damn, breakfast for every meal! Not too bad, huh?”

  “Shhhhh,” Rusty hissed, causing both men to grow quiet and begin nodding. Rusty looked to Clark. “You ready?”

  Clark peered back inside their cell to the drawings on the desk and the shelf of paperbacks above it. Paperbacks he had read at least ten times each now. He took a step back like he was going to grab something from the desk and turned back to Rusty instead. “Let’s do it to it, boss man.”

  They eased out of the jail cell and took a left, carefully creeping down the hallway, trying not to wake anyone else up. The door ahead of them required a security badge to open and Rusty guessed this is where Summer would meet them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Now just slow down, mam. You have to go poddy?”

  Helen twisted in her car seat, the cell phone pressed tightly to her ear. “No! I said I found a body!”

  “Okay mam, what’s your name?” the dispatcher asked calmly.

  “Ruth Carter,” she said, trying to catch her breath with her free hand on her chest.

  “And your location?”

  “I’m in Rock Cut State Park,” she said, listening to the man typing on the other end.

  “North lot?” he asked.

  Ruth looked around. “I’m by the statue of Teddy Roosevelt,” she said, shoving her white poodle off her lap. The dog scampered into the passenger seat of the black Cadillac and looked out the window, its tail wagging back and forth a million miles an hour.

  “South lot,” the operator mumbled, s
till typing. “Is it a male or female?”

  Ruth opened her mouth, her mind flashing back to the grisly remains. “I…I don’t know.”

  The man stopped typing. “You don’t know?”

  “I couldn’t tell. There’s not much left. Please hurry, this is absolutely frightful! Sasha had one of the bones in her mouth.”

  The typing resumed. “Sasha?”

  “Yes, my dog. She yanked her cotton-pickin leash from my hand and took off running. I had a heck of a time finding her, and when I did…” She trailed off, sobbing. “Please hurry!”

  “Okay mam, I’ve got a cruiser in the area now, he should be there soon. Just stay on the line with me and make sure nothing disturbs the area.”

  “Sasha, get off me!” she said, pushing the pooch off her again.

  Sasha yelped and crawled into the backseat.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The light on the door’s card reader was green. Neither Rusty nor Clark could see anyone through the narrow window running vertically along the door’s top half.

  “Try the knob,” Clark whispered.

  Rusty inhaled and turned the knob. It clicked open, so he pushed the door inward and quietly stepped through.

  “Are there zombies?” the pudgy man yelled from his cell just before the heavy security door shut behind them.

  It was dead quiet, that much was for sure. The guards’ desk was just as empty as the hallway.

  “Okay, this is weird,” Clark said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Rusty replied over his shoulder. “I mean, why would grown guards have a calendar of wild horses?”

  Clark glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall behind the desk. “That is weird,” he agreed. “But I was talking about the guards’ station bein empty.”

  “Oh.”

  “So what now?”

  Rusty scanned the area with nervous eyes and started walking. “She said to keep going until we run into her,” he said, turning a corner and screaming.

  The woman lurking at the other end of the hallway watched them with dark eyes, just like she had done in Nick’s kitchen. The fluorescent lights above flickered, making it look like she had moved even though she hadn’t.