A Strange There After

by Missy Fleming

  Catherine was smoothing out her dress when I broke through the other side. Only a moment passed before I rushed at her, but it lasted long enough to catch her shocked expression, tinged by a flicker of fright. I leapt at her body, concentrating on fitting where I belonged. Similar to the other night, I had to find the correct position, matching hers perfectly. When I located it, I felt a slight pinch, but some other force continued to buffer me. Catherine. She must be fighting. I didn’t have a whole lot of time until she regained the upper hand. I had to make the most of the opportunity.

  I burnt five precious seconds becoming reacquainted with the beating of my heart, to air filling my lungs. Yet, it wasn’t the only thing I wasn’t used to. I found that out the hard way when I tried to lift my hand to open the door. My knuckles slammed against the metal, causing me to curse. Except, the curse came out slurred.

  It took me three tries to work the handle of the stall and pull it open. Then came the daunting task of putting one foot in front of the other. The entire room tilted and pitched, as if I was on a boat at sea. I lurched forward, slamming into the granite vanity. Gripping the counter tight, I marveled at how cumbersome and awkward it felt to be in my body. I would have sworn it weighed a thousand pounds. It was like a stranger’s. I glanced up, startled by the wild-eyed version of myself. With a trembling hand I smoothed down my hair and snatched a paper towel to blot the shiny sweat from my face.

  “You can do it,” I told the reflection, happy the words sounded coherent.

  You won’t get away with this!

  Catherine’s frantic voice startled me, and my control slipped. It was as if my insides were engaged in a brutal game of tug of war, and I had to constantly struggle to remain locked inside my body. She poked through for a second, throwing me into the vanity, the edge of the sink digging into my hip. I bit my tongue, blood warm and salty on my tongue. Each movement I attempted was the result of seconds of deliberation.

  The door to the bathroom opened as I flailed about, pushing against Catherine. A woman in her fifties stepped in, clad in glittery sequins from head to toe, eyeing me warily.

  “You okay, sugar?”

  I jerked upright, once again patting my hair, and nodded. As I moved past her and out the door, my steps were spastic, bringing to mind the saying, ‘ants in your pants’. I was sure that was exactly how I looked. Well...or drunk out of my mind.

  She watched me exit, and I caught a glimpse of her shaking her head. Great, she probably thought I was a teenage lush. Granted, it was precisely how I felt, or imagined it would, having never been drunk before. After this experience I never wanted to not have control over my actions. Making my way down the hall, I kept one palm flat on the wall for balance, aware my head twitched on my shoulders like a decomposing zombie.

  I found Boone, pacing, not far from the entrance to the lounge. As I took a lurching step forward, his eyes nearly popped out. He recovered quickly, but not before letting out a wolf whistle.

  “Evening, ma’am.”

  “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me!”

  His brows shot up, and he gaped at me. Once he got over his shock, he regarded me with newfound respect.

  “You did it. Nice,” he said in awe. “I have to say, I had my doubts.”

  “You shouldn’t. This is right up your alley,” I hissed.

  I continued on my way, but he had to sneak in the last word. “I’ll be nearby if this spirals out of your control.”

  Waving him off, I tried not to care about the odd stares I drew. All I focused on was winning this fight with Catherine and keeping her from ousting me before I had a chance to find Jason.

  Who was that guy?

  I ignored her, focusing on my feet and getting them to move.

  I can already feel your strength fading, she said smugly.

  “Stay out of my mind,” I grumbled.

  A couple people nearby swiveled their heads, assessing me with judgmental stares. One very pretty girl actually laughed. Jeez, it was high school all over again. Distracted by the attention, I tripped over my foot, uncomfortable as ever in heels, and would have fallen face first had I not gripped the arm of a waiter as he passed. He bobbled the glasses on his tray, but miraculously managed to keep them from crashing to the floor. After shrugging me off, I was rewarded with a glare. Once I regained my balance I swept the room, searching.

  Finally, I found Jason on the balcony, thankfully alone, staring at the river. As I passed outside I misjudged the doorway and slammed my shoulder into it. Pain shot down my arm, and I lifted it in awe. Oh, I’d forgotten this! Amazing how good hurting myself felt when it wasn’t being done by vengeful spirits.

  “Quinn? You okay?”

  I snapped my head up, staring directly into Jason’s eyes and luxuriated in the butterflies erupting in my stomach. Now I was here words failed me, and laughter filled my mind. I ignored Catherine’s glee, as well as her shoving, and licked my lips. My mouth had gone completely dry.

  “It’s not m—,” I started to say ‘me’ but lost control. Catherine finished the sentence. “Monday.”

  I groaned, noticing how Jason’s lips quirked. “No, it’s Thursday.” His brows knitted together. “Is something wrong?”

  “Don’t trust her,” I blurted. Ha, she didn’t interrupt that one.

  “Who? Do you mean Madeline? I disagree. The part is light years above anything I’ve done in the past, but you know I want to get away from these ridiculous heartthrob roles. It might be worth the risk.”

  I shook my head frantically, unable to stop my leg from shooting out and knocking aside a nearby chair. My entire body trembled with exertion, of trying so hard to hold onto myself. Any second, I was afraid my knees would give out.

  I don’t know why I’m so worried. This is amusing.

  “Shut up!”

  “Okay, Quinn, what is the matter?” He lowered his voice and drew me into a dark corner. Concern settled across his features as he reached up and brushed his knuckles across my cheek.

  The simple touch stole my concentration, and my tenuous hold weakened. I felt Catherine coming through, pushing and pulling me, the same way she did in the cemetery. Desperate, feeling the seconds slipping, I used all of my remaining power to grasp Jason’s jacket and pull him to me. My lips found his, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Warmth pulsed through me, and a tear slipped out of my eye. It’d been so long since I experienced anything like this. The kiss ignited my blood, sent it singing. Life coursed through my veins, the sweet exquisite agony of being alive.

  He drew me closer, gripping me tighter and running a palm up my spine. Chills raced up my arms, bringing me crashing into reality as my shaky hold vanished.

  “No!” I cried out, breaking our connection. “Save me!”

  “What are you talking about? You’re scaring me.”

  Jason’s questions were drowned out by a moan, my moan, and I became aware of people staring out at us. Then, everything whirled as a painful pinch pulled me upward and out. Next thing I knew, I stared at them, at Catherine and Jason. Her cheeks were flushed, and he appeared confused, maybe a little scared, but he kept his arms around her.

  She flashed me a triumphant smirk before frowning and adapting a shaky tone. “I’m sorry. I may have eaten something bad. Take me home?”

  He nodded, tucking her against his shoulder and guiding her inside, in the direction of the elevator. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Despair crashed into me as I remembered the joy of the last few minutes, of being where I belonged. Having that reminder made this form feel like even more of a nightmare. I should be awash in pain, but there was only emptiness. I couldn’t even celebrate the fact it worked, if only for a short time.

  Before the elevator doors closed, shutting off my view of them, I watched Jason kiss her temple, being so gentle with her. It was more than I could take. Another tear trickled down my cheek. I sensed Boone at my side.

  “Don’t start,” I warned.

  “Not a word, I p
romise. May I escort you home?”

  I nodded woodenly. Over the past couple weeks I grew accustomed to being a ghost. The pain of being separated from my life became something I thought I could live with. After having a taste of living again, success felt farther away than ever.

  Boone walked beside me in silence, which I appreciated. The further we got from the Bohemian Hotel the more I concentrated on the positive. I’d done it, only for ten minutes, but it was a start. With a little practice I’d find the answer to controlling my body. I had to be stronger, but how did I do that? Lift weights?

  “You’re prettier than she is.”

  I glanced sharply at my companion, positive he’d been joking, but he returned my stare earnestly.

  “Impossible. It’s my body.”

  “Attractiveness is not based only on the physical.”

  I actually gaped at him, stunned the words came from his lips.

  “Beauty is about more than what is outside. She’s fake, high-maintenance. Granted, I don’t know you very well, but I can’t imagine you with heavy makeup or a dress that tight. You are a lot more real, if that makes sense.”

  It didn’t, not really, not in the way he suggested. If this person, who was practically a stranger, noticed it, why hadn’t Jason? I wanted to take the spotlight off myself, and the disturbing answer to my question, so, since he obviously felt talkative, I tried to find out more about him.

  “When did you realize you were different? That you could see things nobody else could?”

  He ducked his head and adjusted his glasses, giving me the impression he didn’t discuss it often, which surprised me. Normally, he didn’t mind talking about his favorite subject—himself.

  “I grew up in Florida. As a kid, I was sick a lot...heart condition. I spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals, learning how to charm the nurses. I died twice.” He paused. “I was eight the second time and woke up in the hospital with a little girl standing next to my bed. No one acknowledged her but me, and I couldn’t figure out why. When I went home I saw people, some with pretty horrific wounds, at the most random places.”

  “You must have some leftover connection to the spirit world,” I suggested. “Not unlike Catherine. I always assumed that’s why she can torment me as successfully as she does.”

  “Well, it also might be because she’s setting up shop in your body. You’re right, though. In all my research, it’s the best explanation I’ve come up with. I crossed over and came back. There must be some residual effects. It took me a long time to accept it. As a kid, all you want is to be like everyone else.”

  This was a completely different side of him, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I never had anyone to talk to about my sensitive ability or knew how to explain what I went through on a daily basis without sounding loony. It was pretty refreshing. So I opened up a little.

  “I grew up in a haunted house. For as long as I can remember, I’ve sensed spirits, but it kind of grows with me. The older I get, the more I can control and understand it. I inherited it from my mama. She used to chat with the ghost in my house, or so he tells me now.”

  He assessed me with admiration. “I kind of wish mine came on steadily. Since day one, it’s been a hundred percent, not gradual at all. Very few people understand.”

  “Exactly.” We crossed a street and cut into one of the many squares dotting Savannah. Green grass spread around us, gas lamps the only illumination. I always loved how quiet they were at night, when the tourists left, and the city went to sleep.

  “Is this the same one we came to the other night?”

  “No, that was Johnson Square, this is Forsyth. Over there, beyond those trees, is the Forsyth Park Fountain, one of the most photographed places in town.”

  A shadow moved a few feet to our right, and we both tracked it. The simple observation made me feel closer to him.

  “Why ghost hunting?” he asked.

  Delaying my return home to face the music of what I’d done tonight, I sank into the thick grass and lay back, staring up at the stars. Plus, I wanted time to decide how to answer Boone’s question. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Fall was coming, the nights had cooled off, but I didn’t really feel it. My favorite season and I might miss it completely. No Halloween. No caramel apples and pumpkins. No rainy days. Not even the promise of starting college.

  I sighed, determined to stay on topic. “My mama died when I was younger, Daddy about five years ago. I figured if I could see ghosts...”

  “You should be able to find them,” he finished, easing himself to the ground beside me. “Did it ever work?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s a good thing, right? Means they aren’t stuck. They’re someplace better.”

  I drew my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them, nodding. “That’s what I tell myself.”

  Boone gazed around. “I really love it here. I’m such a huge history nut, especially the Civil War era and the Gold Rush out west. Doing what I do, being able to see what I see, it makes it hard to enjoy these amazing places. But, on the other hand, it makes history come alive. I get to experience the past in a way most people don’t. Given the chance, I wouldn’t get rid of my ability. It’s who I am.”

  “Me too, present situation excluded. It’s hard to explore old places. They all want help, and it’s hard to say no, but stories of war and tragedy aren’t just stories to me. I guess I’ve slowly started to appreciate it. As long as I can control which spirits I let in.”

  “I went to Gettysburg, which was something I looked forward to my entire life. I don’t think I’ll ever go back. I didn’t prepare myself. The spirits of the dead soldiers followed me everywhere, begging for news of their loved ones. I really thought I was going to lose it.” He glanced at me. “What’s it like? On that side?”

  “I don’t feel much, physically. Emotionally, it’s a different story. I’d cry constantly if I let myself, but I hate crying. All I have is anger, and sometimes, it takes over.” I told him about the glass and the images I’ve had of hurting Catherine. “I know it’s not coming from me, but it’s really tempting. I’m worried I’m being manipulated.”

  “Manipulated how?”

  I chewed on my lip, unsure how much I should share about what the man showed me. “The man says he can help. Lets me see what I’ve got to lose, how things can be when I get my life back. I’m afraid to ask what he wants in return, but his promises have a way of sticking with me.”

  “Keep in mind he approached Catherine the same way.”

  “I know. I never want to be her.” I pinned him with an earnest stare. “But I can’t stay like this forever.”

  “I won’t let that happen. This situation is so different than anything I’ve come across,” he said. “We need to find out what exactly happened when she died, what this deal was. I’m sure once you know the details it won’t be as enticing.”

  “I hope not. Actually, Jackson mentioned Catherine being fascinated with the slaves and their religions, like voodoo. Can it be possible she reached out to some kind of god when she died? Or it’s a huge coincidence and I’m grasping at straws.”

  “Voodoo gets a bad rep. It’s not all about sticking dolls with pins and black magic. But there are some nasty spirits associated with it. We should find someone who knows more about how the religion works. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

  We passed a few minutes in silence, listening to the sounds of crickets and watching fireflies dance around the trunks of trees. Something about Boone comforted me. Unfortunately. I still thought he was an ass, but I’d gained a mediocre of respect for him tonight. I didn’t like him, regardless of our recent bonding. No, to be honest, I didn’t want to like him, and letting him in meant trust. I wasn’t sure I trusted him. I half expected to find a video of me on the internet some day. But, who else did I have to talk to?

  “Why are you so confrontational in your videos?”

  He flashed me an unsure smile, a streetlight reflectin
g in his glasses. “Why not?”

  “It’s disrespectful?”

  “Come on, it’s not as if I go into abandoned orphanages and try to provoke child spirits. I’m not that insensitive. I only do it when there have been reports of aggressive spirit activity.”

  “So you get a more dramatic reaction.”

  “I’m not saying it’s the best way to go about it.” Boone shrugged one shoulder. “But it gets results.”

  “You should try it at my house.”

  “No way. I’ve seen the movie Poltergeist, and I’ve witnessed what happens at your house. I’m not getting eaten by a tree.” He laughed, plucking a blade of grass and fidgeting with it.

  I joined him, for a bit. Then, the reality of what I had to confront sobered me.

  “I’m scared to go home.”

  “I’ll come with you. Not sure what I can do, exactly, but I am great at moral support.”

  He pushed to his feet and brushed off his dark jeans. He bent and held out a hand, until he realized the absurdity of the gesture.

  “It’s so weird. I keep forgetting you’re not real.”

  I stood and grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  With each step I took closer to home, the knots in my stomach worsened. I expected Catherine and the dark duo to be waiting for me. While the man hadn’t threatened me yet, I knew he worked with Catherine for years. He was dangerous, and my actions might have ticked him off, pushing him from wanting to help straight into deciding I was too much trouble. Going to bed without dinner wouldn’t be a fitting punishment. Not after what I did. Worrying about my well being was one thing, worrying about Boone’s another. I didn’t want anyone else harmed because of me, not even an egotistical maniac like Boone, but I couldn’t force myself to tell him to leave.

  Glancing up, I noticed Catherine standing out on the sidewalk, still wearing her dress and studying the house. It was one of the rare nights the paparazzi weren’t hanging around, waiting to catch a glimpse of the new ‘it’ couple. The wrap party probably had them all distracted.