Ghost Carrier: They Died to Fight Another Day

by Robert Child

  Ghost Carrier

  They Died to Fight Another Day

  —— by ——

  Robert Child

  Copyright © Robert Child, 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Ghost Carrier is a work of fiction. Apart from the well-known actual people, public figures, events, locales, and organizations that figure in the narrative, all names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or organizations or locales, or to living persons, is entirely coincidental.

  Works published and produced by Robert Child can be obtained either through the author’s official website www.robchild.net or through any online retailer.

  Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design

  Ebook formatting by Maureen Cutajar

  This story is dedicated to my father, Robert Warren Child, who passed away when I was four years old. Our bond remains unbroken.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Author’s End Notes

  Chapter 1

  DAYTON, OHIO – MODERN DAY

  Frank Rusk had looked forward to this day with feelings of both accomplishment and dread. He was glad he had reached such an impressive milestone, but to him it meant he had one foot in the grave and perhaps an arm and maybe a leg too. As he drove back home from the barbershop images bounced through his mind – life moments, kids’ birthdays, his wedding to Katie, the night he lost his virginity. It all stretched back into a hazy world to a time and place where he could never return.

  I guess life prepares you for each transition.

  He had been ready when it was time to go to college, to get married, to go to Vietnam, but turning seventy…that was altogether different. It was old, damn old, he thought. And he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He secretly feared senility. Becoming a drooling old man who couldn’t remember his own name and who had to be helped to the toilet.

  He shook off the depressing images thinking Jeez, Frank, this is a party not a damn wake. Snap out of it.

  His wife, Katie, had asked him if he wanted a surprise party with all the family, which he thought was typical of Katie. He reminded her that if he said “yes,” it wouldn’t be a surprise. He told her he didn’t want a surprise party, but then asked her what date she thought was good. He assured her he would act as shocked as he could when he walked in the house and would say all the usual, “you shouldn’t have” and “no, I never suspected” and “really, don’t know how Katie pulled it off” comments everyone would expect.

  Pasting a smile on his face he prepared himself for his command performance at the surprise party though his self-nagging and his utter lack of sleep was catching up with him. He hoped this birthday celebration would be short.

  LATER

  Frank’s son Ben, still a practical joker at forty-five, had something special planned. As Katie and the women cleared the table, Ben jumped up and offered to get the cake. Frank thought, oh boy.

  Ben soon returned with what looked like a chocolate layer cake on fire. “Seventy candles! The boys and I counted them twice,” Ben announced to his father.

  Ben’s freckle-faced twins, Bobby and Danny, sitting on either side of Frank, sported big grins on their thirteen-year-old faces, forks at the ready position.

  “Well, I think someone better call the fire department,” Frank said as his family and friends laughed.

  His cousin Stan called out, “So how’s it feel to be the big 7 – 0, Frank?”

  “I was waiting for that, Stan. You’re so original.”

  Family around the table snickered.

  “Really, it’s not bad, Stan. I feel pretty damn glad to have made it this far, still going strong. I’m feeling good.”

  “Good enough to blow out seventy candles, Dad?” Ben goaded.

  “Sure, but grab me the fire extinguisher under the sink in the kitchen.”

  With the cake now set down in front of him, candles burning, filling the dining room with smoke, Frank drew in as much air as his seventy-year old lungs could hold.

  His neighbor called out, “Make a wish quick, Frank, before the smoke detectors go off.”

  Frank rolled his eyes then paused and thought a second, still holding in his breath. There was one thing he had yearned for his entire life — an impossible dream. But he thought, hell this is my birthday, and a pretty big one at that. I’ll wish for whatever I damn well please. He pictured the wish in his mind, tilted his head back a little and blew as hard as he could into the inferno. As he peered into what looked like a million tiny dancing lights and blew out every ounce of air in his lungs, Frank suddenly saw his father’s face appear in the candle flames. His deceased father, Joe, whom he had never met, was not staring back at him with a smile of fatherly approval. To Frank’s horror, Joe’s mouth opened, his eyes widened, and he screamed in abject terror.

  Frank leapt from the table, cake still half aflame and rushed to the hall bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  His family and neighbors stared after him.

  “Mom, what just happened?” Ben asked Katie.

  “I don’t know, Ben. I don’t know,” she repeated, rising from her chair. As she headed down the hall she heard the twins ask Ben if they could have cake now.

  Katie knocked gently on the bathroom door.

  “Frank, is everything all right? What happened?”

  Peering at his reflection in the mirror, Frank noticed the black circles of sleeplessness under his eyes. He splashed his face with water.

  “Yeah, yeah, I think I’m okay. I don’t know.”

  “Are you coming out? The whole family’s waiting.”

  With that Frank groaned and shook his head, feeling embarrassed about his abrupt behavior leaving the room.

  “Honey, could you just send everyone home?”

  “What? Home? It’s your birthday.”

  “I mean it, just do this for me, please. Please, honey.”

  “All right, if that’s what you really want.”

  “Yes, yes, it’s what I want.”

  “Okay, but when I come back, Frank, we’re gonna have a talk. I want you to see a doctor.”

  Frank closed his eyes. He knew she was right. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  Katie entered the dining room quietly. Few were having cake except for the kids.

  “How is he, Kate? What happened?” her sister called out.

  “He’s been having trouble sleeping lately. Just about every night in fact.”

  Ben offered, “Dad did look pretty tired. I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “Yeah, he’s been waking up in cold sweats.”

  “Bad dreams?” her sister asked.

  “He won’t tell me. Believe me, I’ve asked. I can’t get anything out of him. He says it’s male menopause.”

  Recognizing Frank’s humor, everyone smiled, which lifted the atmosphere a bit.

  “I’m sorry we’re gonna have to cut the party short
. I’m going to get him off to bed.”

  “Is he taking any sleeping pills?” Ben asked.

  “He’s tried every brand they make and nothing. They don’t do a thing.”

  Ben shook his head.

  “I’m gonna get him to a doctor. This has been going on a few weeks now.”

  Katie’s sister gave her a comforting hug.

  “Let us know if you need anything, anything at all, Kate.”

  “Thanks. I just want my husband back to normal.”

  Frank took a long hot shower. He hoped it would be just the thing to relax him and help get him off to sleep. He lingered under the water longer than usual trying to come up with a way to tell Katie what had been happening…and what he had seen in the candle flames. He was afraid he was losing his mind. He was afraid they would confine him to a home. He envisioned himself as the patient in restraints, screaming all day from his bed. The one all the nursing home workers ignored. The one everyone wished would just die so they could have some peace and quiet.

  Frank finally turned the squeaky shower knob to off and the stream became a drip. He knew Katie was waiting, but he hadn’t come up with a good lie yet. Maybe, he wondered, he should just tell her the truth, tell her that he couldn’t sleep because of the visions, the terror, the flames, the rushing water, the muffled screams, the explosions…

  Katie was sitting in the living room watching her favorite show, Long Island Medium, when Frank walked in. She cradled a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and pulled her red faux velvet robe together tighter with the other hand.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah. What are you watching?”

  Katie picked up the remote and clicked it, “Nothing now.”

  Frank, resigned, settled into a rocking chair across from her, “Got it.”

  “Frank, this has got to stop. I love you, but I can’t live like this. We have to make an appointment for you to see someone who can help you.”

  Frank remained motionless, appearing not to hear her.

  “If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on maybe you can tell him or her or whoever.” She raised her hand and scrubbed away a spilled tear. She was trembling and her face was pale. When he didn’t answer, she rose slowly, ready to walk away.

  Frank continued to stare past her, but then haltingly words started to come.

  “Every night it’s the same. It’s horrible, just horrible.”

  Katie sank back down into her chair without speaking a word.

  He turned to look at her and whispered, “It’s like something you never want to see, Katie. Not in your worst nightmares. But I’m seeing it. I know I’m not dreaming, but I can’t open my eyes.”

  Katie looked at him strangely.

  “I’m awake and seeing the worst visions you ever could imagine. They play over and over again in my head. I’m on a ship. Maybe one from World War II. It looks like ships I’ve seen on the History Channel. I’m running and there are other men with me. We’re trapped. Men are yelling. We’re below decks. I don’t know how far. Guys are scrambling up this steel ladder that’s glowing it’s so hot. Their hands are smoking, but they’re still trying to escape. They cry out as they grip the rails. I hear someone yell that we were hit by a torpedo and the ship’s going down.

  I start running in a different direction. The air is filled with pitch-black, oily smoke. Men are choking, heaving. They’re just kids, eighteen, nineteen. I hear more guys ahead of me crying out, ‘We’re gonna die! We’re all gonna die!’ Everyone is scared.”

  Katie listened transfixed.

  “Water is starting to fill where I am. I’m trying to walk through a foot, maybe two, of water. All of a sudden we hear this deep rumble that becomes an ear-splitting roar. Something has exploded. I feel the ship careen downward like on a roller coaster. I’m falling through the air through this passage way. I’m surrounded by other falling men. I land with a jolt against other men at a closed hatch. Men keep falling, piling on top of me. My body, my ribs, I can feel them all breaking and still more guys are piling on top of me. I can’t breathe. I know at this moment I’m going to die. I know it.

  Then, an explosion topside rips a hole in the deck above. I see light for an instant and then with a sound like a freight train, water floods through the hole, pouring on top of us, filling the passageway. It’s all arms, legs, open-mouth muffled screams. I look to my left. In the dim light, I see this guy who has managed to pull a rosary out of his pocket. He holds it tight, eyes closed. Then I see his hand release it. He’s gone. I grab for the rosary and miss. It tumbles away in the water.

  I see another guy near me. I feel I know him, that he is a buddy. I don’t know how I know this guy, but I do. I know him. He struggles to get his arms and hands free in this crush of men and rushing water. I’m watching him. He’s giving it every last bit of strength he’s got…”

  Frank’s eyes welled with tears and his voice cracked, “Finally he gets a hand free and reaches out to me, to my hand flailing there in the water. He grabs my hand. Latches on tight. I can feel him squeezing. I understand. He looks me in the eye. He doesn’t want to die alone.”

  Frank grows quiet. His words linger in the air.

  “And then there’s nothing. Nothing. The vision ends. Every night it’s the same exact thing.”

  Chapter 2

  DR. GARRET’S OFFICE

  “You say you’ve been having this same dream for three weeks?”

  “No, Dr. Garret,” Frank protested to the salt and pepper haired physician, “it’s not a dream. I’m awake and experiencing it.”

  “What do you mean awake?”

  “I know it sounds stupid, but I can feel the bed, feel Kate next to me. I just can’t move or open my damn eyes till it’s over. Like someone is holding me down and keeping my eyes shut. Almost like I’m paralyzed.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Frank frowned at the doctor. He knew this appointment was a big mistake.

  “I can prescribe a strong sedative you can take right before bed that will knock you out so you can get some rest, but I’d also like to perform some additional tests.”

  “Anything, Doctor. I just want this all to end.”

  “I also want to refer you to a specialist,” Garret said as he reached for a script to jot down the practitioner’s name and address.

  “A specialist? What kinda specialist?” Frank asked warily.

  “Someone who can go deeper into the possible root cause for these drea…visions.”

  “You mean a shrink?”

  “The science of psychology has helped millions of people restore their mental wellbeing, Mr. Rusk.”

  “Mental wellbeing? Jesus. So you think I’m off my rocker? No way. Nooo way.”

  “Look, Mr. Rusk, I don’t know what our tests will determine. Hopefully nothing. But if there is nothing neurological that’s causing this sleep depravation, we have to pursue psychological analysis. And under the law it’s my responsibility as a physician to see to it that all avenues of care are pursued.”

  “Like committing me to a mental hospital.”

  “I’ve never had to recommend that in thirty years of practice.”

  “Well, Doc, there’s a first time for everything.”

  FRANK AND KATE’S HOUSE TWO WEEKS LATER

  Frank kept moving his pasta Bolognese around the plate. He wasn’t hungry.

  “A shrink, can you believe that? I have to see a shrink.”

  “Frank, there’s nothing wrong with it if it helps you. Besides aren’t you glad the medical tests came back negative. You don’t have a brain tumor. Let’s be thankful for that.”

  Frank nodded in begrudging agreement.

  Katie stared at him for an awkward moment.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, what is it, Katie? Something’s on your mind. Spill it.”

  “It’s just that…your birthday. You never told me why you jumped up from the table that day like a crazy-”
/>   Frank dropped his fork on his plate and barked, “You too?”

  Katie shifted her gaze away.

  “Well, if you must know, your husband, better known as Mr. Loony Tunes, saw my Dad’s face in the candle flames on that cake. There, you happy now?” Frank threw his napkin onto the table and folded his arms in silent challenge.

  “Oh but, Frank, that could be a sign, a good sign. That’s what Theresa says.”

  “Who? What, on that show you watch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, what does Theresa say about seeing your father’s face screaming in terror as he’s looking at you from a cake?”

  DR. PARVEEN’S OFFICE

  Frank found the address on Lamme Road and then saw the big “Kettering” sign. He had arrived. Katie wanted to come, but Frank insisted he would do this on his own. He wasn’t going to back out. He wanted to prove to her that he really would give this a shot. Just the same, he was nervous as hell having never been to a shrink before. His appointment was with a Dr. Parveen.

  The wait was short in the subdued office reception area. Everything seemed low key, including the low lighting and soft-spoken receptionist. Smooth jazz drifted down from the round ceiling panel speakers.

  A short Indian man in a dark gray suit entered the waiting area.

  “Mr. Rusk?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Dr. Parveen. Won’t you come in?”

  An Indian psychologist was not what Frank had expected. Then again he had no idea what he expected with a name like Parveen. He followed the man into the dimly lit office.

  “Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Some water perhaps?”

  “No, no thank you, Doctor. Look, I’ve never been to one of these places before. How does it work? Do I lay down on a couch or something?”

  The doctor smiled.

  “Only if you want to. What we do here together is determine if there are incidents in your life, past or present that could be causing this mental anxiety. If we can identify the root causes, there are certain things we can do to address and alleviate the problem. Hopefully we will end the problem altogether through treatment. That is the goal.”