by Simon Murik
In fact, when I was pulling some weeds, I heard her fussing around in her kitchen. She always opened her windows on nice days and this was no different. What was different was the cussword I heard; at least it was a cussword for her that I’d never heard her say before.
“Dammit!”
I figured she messed up something she was cooking and good naturedly I called over, “Doris, everything OK?”
She stuck her head by the kitchen window screen and said, “Leave me alone, boy. Go about your business!”
I chuckled at her calling me ‘boy.’ I was forty-two but I guess to her I was a boy. I smiled and pulling weeds had never been so fun.
Later that night I heard that same scream again. No matter how much she didn’t want me in her business, this was just too weird. I hustled over again and knocked on her door.
“Go away!”
“Doris, open the door! What’s happening in there?”
She opened the door a crack and I could see one side of her face and her glaring eye. “Just go home and be about your own business!”
“Doris, you can’t keep doing this. If whatever it is keeps making you scream, we gotta stop it.”
“I told you, it’s a ghost and I’ll take care of it.”
I crossed my arms and tapped my feet. “You told me last night you didn’t like ghosts and wanted it gone. How are you going to get rid of it?” I asked to humor her.
“I have someone coming. Now get home.” And with that said the door closed and I stood there feeling like a fool, but at the same time was a little worried for her, and thought about calling someone to check up on her. I didn’t know anyone in her family and calling in about an older person in trouble to one of the agencies could cause all kinds of trouble so I decided to wait and see who showed up to help her.
I didn’t sleep well that night or the next; I kept waiting to hear another scream. I was glad she hadn’t but I was tired and had to go to work. Then it dawned on me, if I was gone how would I know who came over to help her and what they did? It was a dilemma and I had no quick answer. Maybe I could call in sick, but I never did that and wasn’t comfortable with that unless I really was sick. But I had to know what happened next door. I ran over to her house and after some hesitant ‘him haws,’ she finally told me that “they” were coming over tonight. That solved my problem and I headed off to work.
It had been a busy, tiring day made all the more so by my lack of sleep and I didn’t even think of what was happening that night until I pulled into my driveway. When I did, I figured I’d grab a quick bite and go over and see if she’d let me in to watch. I was curious as hell to see what this person, or persons, were going to do. Was it real, or did they just prey on those who just didn’t seem to quite get it. I was of no doubt that there were no ghosts and I wanted to see what was done in case Doris was being taken advantage of.
I was just finishing my coffee when I heard a car pull up outside by the house. I glanced through the window and saw it must be the company my neighbor was waiting for. It was only one woman and she was dressed like a fortune teller. Oh great! Now Doris was reaching pretty far if she had someone like that coming over.
I headed over to her house not knowing what to expect and surprisingly, she let me in without a word. I followed her into the front room where the woman was sitting and looking into a crystal ball. Yes, a crystal ball! How much more ridiculous could this get? I was about to say something to Doris but she shushed me before I could. I sat back in amusement and watched the lady mutter something under her breath, and believe it or not, it seemed as if the room got about a few degrees cooler. I sat up straighter and looked around the room.
“Be gone!” was all she said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw something shimmering in the corner.
My interest was really piqued now and I sat up even straighter to watch what happened. The fortune teller lady got up and walked over to whatever it was and made the sign of the cross, spoke a few words, and the thing vanished out of sight. With a big smile, she came back and sat down on the chair.
“He’s gone, Doris. He was just lost and looking for a way home.”
“Oh good. Didn’t want that spirit bugging me anymore. Didn’t seem like a bad guy but I don’t like ghosts roaming around in my house.”
I sat with my jaw dropped and mouth open wondering what the hell had just happened. Yes, I saw something but I didn’t know what it was. The room was suddenly warmer and I realized it got warmer when the thing disappeared. I was left scratching my head and I looked in confusion at the two ladies and I’m sure I looked like an idiot. Doris got up and in a few minutes we were all sitting and drinking a glass of tea. When we finished, Doris’ visitor excused herself and left. Doris walked her to the door thanking her all the way.
When she came back to the front room she told me, “Go home, boy. Nothing more to see here.”
“Doris, what in the world…?”
“I told you, son. I don’t like ghosts in my house. Now git yourself back home; I’ll be fine now.” And she gave me a smile and a wink.
I left shaking my head all the way back to my house and began to look around to see if I had a ghost. I chuckled when I realized what I was doing and sat down to watch some television. I couldn’t explain what had happened, but I guess I have to accept there are some kinds of spirits out there. That was just too weird to accept, but too strange to ignore. If my house ever drops in temperature, I know who I’ll be calling.
I dealt a fresh set of cards to the midnight Blackjack zombies and looked over again at the far corner of the casino. Audrey, the cocktail waitress, now stood there chatting it up with some silver-haired guy in a thousand-dollar suit who looked like he could compete in the senior’s division of the Word’s Strongest Man competition. A couple of young guys holding beers and wearing UNLV t-shirts brushed past them and Frankie the pit boss stood with his back against the wall just off to the right of Audrey.
And then a cold chill flowed over the back of my neck and I knew I’d be seeing the ghost of the girl I’d killed soon.
I’d never had a chance to hit the brakes when she’d run out into the dark, rural road in snowy upstate New York three years ago—and thanks to the two beers in me I’d been too scared to stop. But I’d gotten a good look at her when she’d been thrown across the hood of the Mustang.
And now she’d been haunting me for the past five months.
Either that or I was losing my mind.
“C’mon, wake up, buddy. Hit me.”
I shook my head and got back to the game, flipping the thick-necked biker showing fifteen and a ten. The seventy-something-year-old blue-haired girl held on to her nineteen and the oily-haired skinny guy held on to his rather fortuitous twenty. I turned over an ace of spades next to my queen and collected everyone’s money.
A light hand tapped my shoulder and I turned my head to see Justin, the twenty-seven year-old from Idaho, who’d been working here a year.
“Quitting time, Ace,” Justin said.
“Ace,” that’s what the younger dealers called me.
I looked back at the table and nodded. “Have a good night everyone; it’s been a pleasure.” I gave Justin a pat on the back as he took the spot.
As I walked through the casino, I looked around at all the closed tables. It was pretty dead for a Thursday night. The money had been solid since I’d started working here—not as good as if I’d landed a job on the strip, but working in the heart of Vegas would have made me too nervous. I’d snuck out of New York the day after the accident and when I’d found this little desert town a good twenty miles outside of the usual tourist traps, I knew I had a place to lie low for a while. I’d already worked as a dealer when I was in my mid-twenties in Jersey and had been hired on the spot.
But now I was seeing dead girls.
I slid past a group of drunk salesman types as they yapped at the roulette wheel and into the front lobby.
Cami, who was also a shot girl and dancer
at one of the hard-partying hotels on the strip, was working the coat check tonight and she ran her hand through her platinum blond hair and smiled at me as I walked by.
“Done for the night, Ace?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m outta here. Have a good night, Cami,” I said as I went up to the revolving glass door. I felt Cami’s stare as I pushed through it and I knew her shift ended in twenty minutes but I was tired and just wanted to get to bed. Stepping onto the sidewalk, I stopped and took out the pack of Marlboro’s and my silver Zippo from my inside jacket pocket. I slid out a cigarette, brought the lighter up, and flicked it on. The orange flame jumped out of the metal and as I lit the cigarette my heart froze.
She stood at the edge of the casino’s sidewalk.
I snapped the Zippo shut and took a deep drag. As usual, I couldn’t see details of her face, just a sort of oval-shaped black shadow with transparent shoulder-length black hair and a wispy hourglass body.
I took another pull on the cigarette and flicked it into the parking lot. There was a bottle of scotch waiting for me at home and movies on Netflix. If ghost girl wanted to join me she could, but mostly likely the scotch would relax my guilty subconscious and it would just be me and the fifty-two-inch Sony.
I hurried over to the Charger—I’d sold the Mustang the second I’d crossed into Pennsylvania—and hopped in. My neck was starting to get a little tight from not having a drink in ten hours and I fired the car up, backed out, and peeled off. Flipping on the radio, I played around with the stations as I checked the rearview mirror. I didn’t see any ghost girls following me and I sped off down the two lane stretch of moonlit desert highway.
When I got back to my house, I showered, threw on my old Syracuse lacrosse shorts, and grabbed the scotch and a rock glass from the onyx wet bar in the living room. I’d been renting the house for almost two years now and at $1,700 a month, it wasn’t exactly a steal but it was a lot nicer than any of the apartments around here and it gave me some space. Besides, there was no way in hell I was about to buy anything. Not for a while yet anyways.
With my bottle in one hand and glass in the other I flopped down on the leather couch, flipped on the TV, and started scrolling through the movie section on Netflix. They had a Schwarzenegger collection now and I felt like some mindless fun so I went with Commando, which somehow I’d never seen. After an intro with a few scenes of serious-looking guys killing people, the credits and 80s synthesizer music started to roll and I poured myself a drink. I took a sip and my back muscles eased as I settled into the movie. Schwarzengger’s character lived in some nice big house up in the mountains of what looked like Colorado or Idaho and as I took another sip it hit me how much I missed skiing. I’d done a lot of it growing up and had been good, real good, but it’d been at least ten years since I’d hit the slopes and my life had been all about forgetting the past for the past three.
An hour or so went by; I rubbed my chin and lifted the bottle off the cube. As hoped for, the movie was dumb and entertaining and I poured myself my fourth or fifth drink.
I set the bottle down and saw her standing in the hallway that led to my bedroom. I took a drink and closed my eyes. Usually she would be gone when I opened them again.
But when I did she was still there.
She hovered over the floor just high enough to show me what she was but low enough that it seemed like she was trying to present herself as human. I swallowed hard and turned back to the movie. If I ignored her she would eventually go away. She always did.
But this time she floated towards me. I pretended not to see her and stared intently as Arnold rubbed camouflage all over his body and strapped himself with enough weapons to blow up a small army, which a few seconds later is exactly what he began to do.
Coldness wrapped around me like an invisible icy blanket and she let out a piercing shriek of pain that made my neck tighten and my ear drums twist. She’d never made a sound before and I knew it was to let me know what it’d felt like when my car had slammed into her. I shifted my body down the couch hoping she’d go away but she kept coming, past the coffee table and then up over the couch so that she was hovering right above me.
And then her black, skeletal like hands reached for my face.
I jumped off the couch, stumbled to my room, hit the bed, and passed out. Hours later I woke up to a bad case of cotton mouth and a warm sunbeam in my face.
I sat up and looked around the room.
She was gone.
I pushed myself out of bed, showered, and got dressed. After frying up a few eggs and a couple of cups of coffee, I went out for a three-mile run. When I got back I had a voicemail from the casino asking if I could fill in for one of the dealers just from 8:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. Friday nights were usually good nights to work and I called them back and said no problem. I spent the rest of the afternoon lying out by the pool wondering if I should go back to seeing a psychiatrist. The first time I’d gone to see a shrink had been in the second month of the “ghost” visits. My doctor had seemed like a good enough guy and had even prescribed me Valium after my first visit, but to me the whole thing was pointless. No way was I telling him what I’d done in New York and I figured I could just keep self-medicating until my head decided to make this all go away.
And hell, if I really was being visited by a dead girl’s ghost there wasn’t anything some shrink could do about it anyways.
But things were only getting worse.
Around four in the afternoon I got up and went to run some errands. When I got home I threw a California Pizza in the oven and went to the fridge to grab a Corona. I reached in, grabbed a bottle, and when I stood back up she flew at me from the kitchen entrance, screaming so loud I dropped the bottle which smashed all over the tile. My heart pounded against my chest like an angry fist and I stepped back against the pantry. She held her arms out and reached at my throat but I ducked away and ran out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.
For almost five minutes I leaned against the sink and shivered, waiting for her to come in.
But she didn’t.
My mind was scrambled and I didn’t know what to do.
Just get out of here and get to work.
I nodded, got undressed, and got in the shower. Two minutes later I shut the water off, got out, and wrapped a towel around my waist. I then opened the bathroom door and looked down the hallway at the living room. Everything seemed quiet.
Quickly walking to my bedroom, I got my dealer outfit on, hurried out of the house, and drove to work. The tables were already full when I walked into the casino at 8:20 p.m., which was a great sign. A busy night meant a fast and profitable night. And for the first three hours everything went nice and smooth. No difficult patrons, good tippers, and we’d apparently hired two new cocktail waitresses from the gentlemen’s club down the road that were pretty decent eye candy. In fact, it was such a good night that I’d almost forgotten that I was either being haunted or having a total mental breakdown.
And then just after midnight I felt a cold breeze circle around me. The image of her limp body flying into a snow bank at the side of the road flooded my mind and suddenly I couldn’t even add up the cards. A dealer who couldn’t concentrate would be axed real quick and I glanced around to see if someone could take my place. My heart started to pound again and a cold sweat broke over my arms and back. I’d never had a reaction like this to her, but other than last night and in the kitchen today she’d never actually approached me before.
“I’m sorry, folks,” I stammered. “I’m going to have to find another dealer for you; I’m not feeling too well.”
I hurried away from the table, nearly bumping into Frankie as I made a beeline straight to the lobby.
Frankie grabbed my shoulders with hands like two iron vises. “You OK, kid?”
My breath was fast, almost to the point of hyperventilating, but I managed to say that I just needed some air and Frankie let me go. I quick-stepped through the lobby, barely hearing Cami say hi to me
, and through the revolving door out into the parking lot. I put my hands on my hips, looked up at the sky, and sucked in the cool night air. I turned and ran towards my car at the far right side of the parking lot. Running as I breathed a mile a minute was almost like trying to walk on water but I made it to the car without collapsing and looked back.
She was about twenty feet away, coming at me with her hands reaching out.
I jumped in the car, twisted the key, and burned rubber out of the lot onto the highway. When I got home I packed two bags, took the twelve grand and brick of gold I kept in the wall safe, and then got back in the car and hit the road again.
I went west for a couple of miles and then merged on to the M7 North. After about ten minutes my body relaxed and my racing heart slowed back to normal. I rolled down the window and the desert breeze soothed my face and blew through my hair.
For the next six hours I drove north, crossing into Idaho as a big orange sun appeared over the mountains west of me. I’d heard Boise was nice but it wasn’t far enough. If I pushed through without stopping I’d be in Montana in another six hours and that should be plenty of distance—at least for a while.
And who knows, if those ghostly visits were just my stressed mind playing tricks on me, then maybe escaping casino life and getting onto the ski slopes would keep her away for good. And if she was real, well it took her two years to find me in Vegas so hopefully it’d be a good year before she caught up with me again.
I glanced in the rearview mirror at the purple Nevada skyline and then back at the now sunlit stretch of highway ahead of me.
But either way, it is hard to escape your past.
And in the end, maybe I will or maybe I won’t
Only time will tell.
I lit a cigarette and snapped the black Zippo shut. The stone tower seemed a hell of a lot taller in person than it had in the pictures. Squinting my eyes, I stared up at the wisp of cloud that had settled in front of the black opening at the top where everyone had either been thrown out of or jumped from.