by Leah Cutter
“The doctor said he hadn’t seen anything like it before,” Julie said. “It’s why they want to give me more tests. It’s like the opening to my uterus got blocked off by extra skin.”
Franklin grew very still. “Julie, do you think it might have happened the night before? That blast from Doctor Traeger that healed us? Made us feel younger?”
Julie paused, then nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that. But you may be right. My period was supposed to start any day now. Now, it looks like I won’t be having any for a while.”
Franklin nodded, trying to put it all together. “So this doctor, he ain’t cheating death. He wants to beat it. Make everyone young and healthy all the time. He said something about no more death. And no more birth.” Franklin paused, then added, “That battlefield was just a test of how many souls he could raise at once. He’s throwing a charity ball, you know?”
Julie shook her head.
“That’s where I’d heard his name before. He’s gonna have a bunch of people at his place, people who have paid him a lot of money.”
“Then what’ll he do?” Julie asked. “Make them all young again?”
“More than that,” Franklin said. “He’s a doctor. He don’t want to just cheat death. He wants to beat it.” He was planning to subvert the natural process.
It just weren’t right.
“He’s stealing the lives of ghosts to do it,” Julie added.
“Which most folks wouldn’t mind,” Franklin pointed out. He’d mind, but most folks didn’t know better.
Julie looked back at him, surprised. “Really?”
Franklin shrugged. “They’re dead, right? They’ve had their chance. Why worry about the dead now?” It wasn’t how he felt, but he could already hear the commentators on the TV talking about it, how they’d justify what they was doing.
“People don’t know he’s stealing their souls with that blade,” Julie pointed out.
“Exactly,” Franklin said. “We got to get that blade away from him. Folks don’t always do the right thing, particularly when they don’t have all the facts.”
“I’ll help,” Julie said.
Franklin paused, then said, “Okay.”
Though he knew he was lying to her.
It wasn’t that he was gonna steal that blade back all by himself. No, he’d have help. But he weren’t about to do something that illegal with her. Or something that might be dangerous.
But Darryl would help. Hell, he might even be useful for once.
Ξ
Julie lay quietly in Franklin’s arms, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping. They’d had a real nice dinner, and a real nice afterwards, too.
“You think it would be that bad? Living forever?” Julie finally asked.
“That isn’t the problem,” Franklin said. “I wouldn’t mind living forever with you,” he added, kissing her temple. “But it seems like part of the price is that there won’t be anyone new. No births. Remember? Just those people who get made immortal. And, well, that would be it. That would be all the people there ever was.”
Julie nodded against his chest. “I think that would grow old,” she said.
He could hear the smile in her voice. He kissed her hair again.
Then he sighed, thinking about the consequences.
“No new kids. No new babies to smile at. No one to teach nothing to,” Franklin said, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. No new families.
“No Mother’s Day flowers. No princess tea parties in the backyard,” Julie continued.
No son to teach the proper methods of popping corn to. No daughter to be proud of and brag on.
Franklin would never know what it was like to be a dad. Since he’d never had one, not really, as his dad had died just after Franklin had been born, he’d always planned on being a really good dad, there all the time.
If the doctor won, Franklin would never have the chance.
“We’ll stop him,” Julie said curling up against Franklin’s side, her breath deepening into sleep.
Franklin stayed awake for a while longer, holding onto this precious time. He understood the temptation to stay just in one place. But wasn’t that what his duty was? To help ghosts—people—move along?
Doctor Traeger was planning on using that blade, that soul taker, to beat death.
Franklin was determined to not let the doctor win.
Ξ
Darryl showed up at Franklin’s house right after work, wearing his car mechanic’s uniform. Franklin wasn’t sure how much Darryl was getting done at the job with his arm still in a sling.
He expected Darryl wasn’t resting his arm like he should be. But Franklin weren’t his cousin May, and wasn’t about to harangue him about it. Plus, Darryl’s wife Gloria was likely to be giving Darryl an earful already.
Darryl didn’t look like he’d been working, though. Normally, he were covered in grease and Franklin always had to insist that he wash his hands. Twice.
“Got me up front, minding the register,” Darryl said after he’d changed into a gray, short-sleeved, button-up shirt and jeans. (Seemed a T-shirt was just too much trouble with his arm.)
“Bet that just makes your day,” Franklin said dryly.
Darryl shrugged. “It ain’t been too bad, actually,” he said.
Franklin wondered if Darryl’s own dark skin were hiding his blush.
“I don’t have much of a head for numbers, but I have been working inventory, making sure we actually have what we need for parts,” Darryl added, boasting.
“What, they discover the hick has a brain?” Franklin teased.
Darryl just rolled his eyes. “I may not be as smart as Jason—none of us is. But I know what I know.”
“That you do,” Franklin said.
“So what exactly are we hunting?” Darryl asked.
“Two things, actually,” Franklin said. “First, can you come look at something?”
Franklin hadn’t felt as though anyone had been watching him the week before he went to get the blade from Darryl. But how else had Dr. Traeger known about ghosts Franklin had helped?
They tromped outside. The sun had just set and the night seemed lighter, while the sound of trucks on the interstate a mile away seemed heavier, a stream of them, probably all racing for their dinner. Fresh dirt smells and green grass filled the air. The chorus of frogs was just starting up.
Just a little ways up from the driveway, along the ditch on Franklin’s property, Franklin thought he’d spotted something.
“That look like a hunting nest to you?” he asked Darryl.
Darryl squatted down and waved his hand over the bent grass. Then he broke off one of the stems, brought it up to his nose and got a good sniff.
“Seems someone’s been watching you,” Darryl said. His voice took on a deeper timbre.
Franklin nodded. That was what he’d been afraid of. He hadn’t noticed the bent grass until the other day, when he’d spent time fixing stuff all around the farm.
Darryl stood up, then turned first one way, then the other. Without warning he took off, running with that grace that meant he was doing the one thing he’d been born to do: hunt things.
Darryl raced back along the ditch to Franklin’s driveway, then up, toward the lane.
Franklin took off after his cousin. Even though he were still feeling younger, he knew he’d never keep up. Not when Darryl was running with his full powers.
Darryl had turned up the lane, toward the empty Averson fields. He stopped after about a quarter mile.
“Think he parked here,” Darryl said, growling. He paced the area, frustrated. “Can’t really chase a scent in a car,” he said. He turned back to Franklin and shook his head. “You got an idea who was doing this? Invading your privacy like this?”
“Yeah, I do,” Franklin said sourly. “Figure it was the same guy who stabbed me.”
“Stabbed you?” Darryl asked. He was suddenly right there beside Franklin, running his hands up and down about an inch away
from Franklin’s body.
His hand stopped right at Franklin’s side, where he’d been injured.
Where had Darryl learned to do that?
“With that blade. The one that had been buried under your thorn bush.” Franklin explained, turning back down the lane and heading toward his farmhouse. “He was waiting for me that night, after we dug it out.”
Darryl gave a low, long whistle, stepping back. “So you never used it?”
Franklin shook his head. “Nope.”
“Good,” Darryl said. “That blade weren’t good.”
“But it weren’t bad, either,” Franklin said. “It depends on the intent of the person who’s holding it.”
What do you mean?” Darryl asked.
“I learned some of the history of the knife. It been made to take souls, use them in sacrifice,” Franklin said.
“That don’t sound good to me,” Darryl said, looking wary.
“If I used it to encourage souls to pass on, that would be cheating, but it wouldn’t be bad,” Franklin pointed out.
“I don’t know, Cuz,” Darryl said. “I still think it’s evil.”
“Well, it might be a bit more powerful, right now,” Franklin admitted.
“You’re joking,” Darryl said.
Franklin explained about how the doctor was using it to steal the souls of the dead, raising up an army of ghosts, and how the blade now was overfull with all of them.
“He’s gonna use it to make all the rich and powerful people live forever?” Darryl asked, agitated. He looked like he really wanted to shoot something.
“That’s what I think,” Franklin said. “So we got to go steal that blade back.”
“Do you know where this blade is?” Darryl asked.
“I do,” Franklin said. Despite being healed, he still had a connection to the knife, could still feel its cold blade in his side.
“What do you need me for then?” Darryl said. “If you don’t need me to go hunting for it?”
“I figure there will be traps out there,” Franklin said. “And that you might know how to break into someplace bettern me.”
Finally, Darryl gave Franklin a big smile. “That I do. Let’s go steal us a blade.”
Ξ
Dr. Traeger lived west of Katherinesville, along an old country lane that was barely two-cars wide. If someone came the other way, they’d both end up with their far tires on the shoulder to pass.
The land along the lane was all fields, open and green. It was too dark to see the quality of the crops, but they seemed to be doing well. The moon was only half-full, and even in clear areas didn’t provide much light.
Red brick columns stood on either side of the drive leading to the Traeger estate. Beyond them grew tall, graceful oaks, forming an arch.
Franklin would bet that this used to be a plantation. Was probably old money.
Had the doctor started here? Using the ghosts of the dead from his own land?
Franklin shivered. They had to get that blade away from him, make it more difficult for him to steal souls.
Darryl drove by the entrance slowly, casing the joint, as it were. “Place is too big to have a fence all the way around it,” he said after they’d gone a ways and hadn’t come to another driveway.
How many acres did the doctor own?
“All the security will be up closer to the house,” Darryl added as he turned around. He found a wide flat shoulder to pull his truck onto about a quarter mile from the front entrance.
“Any idea what kind he might have? What we should be looking for?” Franklin asked as he slid out of the truck.
Darryl shrugged one-armed, not moving the shoulder with the sling. “Beats me. You said he’s raising ghosts?”
Franklin nodded grimly as Darryl dug into the back of his truck, hauling out a backpack and thrusting it at Franklin.
“That might be the only protection he needs, if they start howling at the approach of strangers,” Darryl pointed out.
“Don’t think it works that way,” Franklin said. “They howl all the damn time.”
Darryl paused by the side of the road, sniffing the air. “Don’t think he keeps dogs,” he said. “I’ll smell ’em ’bout the time they smell us.”
Franklin nodded, impressed. He hadn’t been sure if Darryl would have embraced his gift or if he would have gone on denying it.
Seemed his cousin had really been working with it. They was gonna have to sit down with some beers sometime, and Darryl was gonna have to tell some tales. Or maybe go hunting, after Darryl was fully healed, just to see.
The cousins crossed the lane then started up onto the property. Huge trees with massive brambles and bushes worked as good as a fence next to the road. However, Darryl could find the single path through them easily enough, without hesitation.
After the thick bush, the land opened up. Just trees grew there, huge old oaks, with roots raised up almost a foot off the ground, looking to trip anyone walking. Of course, Darryl didn’t have any problem, but Franklin stumbled more than once.
Was the trees trying to stop them? Slow them down? Franklin remembered the pines at Perryville.
But these oaks weren’t moving on their own. They was slow and sleepy. It was just Franklin’s own two feet and the dark of the night that were the problem.
Darryl led them unerringly toward the house. Franklin might have been able to do that too, given the way he still felt connected to that blade. It was sleeping, kind of, or at least resting. It still felt bloated, overly full, and tired.
It was still carrying far too many souls around. The blade wanted rid of them. It felt ill-used.
It didn’t like the doctor one bit.
Maybe Franklin could use that, get the blade to turn against the doctor. Not like the blade could move on its own, though.
Up closer to the house came the first wall—a tall one, made of old brick. It bulged toward the bottom, the weight of its age forcing the bricks out of their straight lines. It had been patched in place, though, and was still strong. Franklin didn’t see any barbed wire running along the top of it—or any cameras.
“Can we go around?” Franklin asked, crouching down next to Darryl at the foot of the wall. It was at least seven feet tall.
“We’re gonna have to,” Darryl said grimly. “I just can’t make it over.”
While Franklin was strong, and maybe he could get over that wall on his own, he couldn’t pull Darryl up after him.
Darryl placed his free hand on the wall, sliding it to the right, bumping over the old brick, then to the left.
Franklin could see something tugging on Darryl’s hand, until the fingers all pointed toward the left.
“This way,” Darryl said, easily hopping over a bush growing up next to the wall.
Just a ways down, an old wooden door led through the wall. The doorway was arched, with a fancy brick pattern of interlocking diamonds done in stone above it. The door itself had three, rusting iron bars running across it, holding it together.
The door handle was brand new, the shiny silver looking out of place. A metal plate surrounded the handle and ran to the edge of the door. Franklin figured that was to make it extra strong. He’d bet that the hole the lock slid into was all metal as well.
Darryl fished his keys out of his pockets, then held up a strange-looking key, longer than a regular one, with just small nibs on either side. “Proper skeleton key,” he said. It didn’t take him but three tries and they were through the door.
“Are those legal?” Franklin asked as Darryl paused and wiped their fingerprints from the shiny metal.
Darryl shrugged. “They ain’t illegal,” he said. “Now, a bump key? That’ll get you some hard questioning.”
Franklin weren’t sure what that was. He also weren’t sure Darryl didn’t happen to have one of those on him, either. He weren’t about to ask, though.
The yard on the other side of the brick wall seemed quieter, and the night seemed thicker. Even the cicadas we
ren’t as loud.
They was standing on soft dirt, between two big azaleas still dotted with pink flowers. A garden grew next to the wall, a three foot wide strip, covered in cedar mulch and filled with tamed shrubs. Beyond that was the yard proper, with neatly trimmed grass, more stately oaks, and a screened-in gazebo to the left.
The air held the smell of the cedar and the grass and good, rich soil.
To the right stood a tall old house, made of wood with a steep jutting roof—Franklin guessed, the plantation. It’d probably be right pretty in the daylight; right now, it was just a dark shape. Beside it was a more modern, square building, just a single story made of brick, but huge. Twice as long as the house. Big enough to hold one of those Olympic swimming pools.
That was probably where they’d be having the charity ball.
The blade was in the house, maybe on one of the upper floors.
Franklin was about to step out of the patch of garden and onto the lawn when Darryl held him back.
“Not that way,” Darryl whispered. Instead, he crept along the mulch, close to the wall.
Of course, there would be roses there, old ones, with canes thicker than Franklin’s thumb—more thorns digging into Franklin’s skin. Darryl passed without a scratch.
When Darryl paused for a moment, Franklin asked him, “Why we going this way?”
Darryl pointed straight up.
On top of the wall was a black glass dome that Franklin hadn’t seen from the other side.
Franklin recognized it as one of those fancy security cameras. Charlene had installed them all over the grocery store where he’d used to work. He shivered.
He weren’t sure that hiding next to the wall would keep them out of sight. But stepping onto the lawn they’d absolutely be seen.
Darryl led them as close to the house as they could get along the garden part of the wall. Then he backed them up about three feet.
“The cameras don’t have as good an angle, here,” Darryl explained.
Franklin weren’t sure where Darryl had learned about that sort of thing. It wasn’t part of his hunting gift.
“Follow me. Step where I do,” Darryl instructed.
Franklin felt completely exposed once they left the bushes of the garden, like a deer in an open meadow with hunters nearby. But he followed Darryl, walking sideways along the yard, keeping his back to the camera on his right.