Chapter 12

Skippy

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Merlin demanded, flashing a disgusted look up at Skippy from where she knelt next to the unconscious Bert. “I told you that you can scare him but not too much!”

“C’mon, man, he was asking for it!” Skippy said.

“This is the second time tonight that he’s fainted,” Lassie muttered, bending over the comatose figure.

“To be fair, we didn’t cause the first time,” Flipper pointed out. “At least, not directly. But it was a dumb thing to do, Skippy.”

“Right. Blame me,” Skippy muttered, folding his arms, his shattered face settling into a stubborn mask.

“You were the one who said boo,” Lassie commented.

“You’d’ve preferred the standard woooooo?” he asked with heavy sarcasm.

“You’re turning this drama into a comedy,” Flipper accused. “Is he gonna be all right?” he asked Merlin.

“Eventually,” she replied, getting to her feet.

“It was just a bit of fun!” Skippy defended.

Merlin’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat. His eyes began to bug out. “This is my idea of fun,” she said. “You enjoying it?” She let him go and he sagged, trying to swallow. “One man’s idea of fun isn’t always shared by the next man. I suggest you remember that.”

“You touched me!” Skippy choked. “You .. touched me!”

Merlin faced him. “I can do more than that, Skippy. I can find you no matter where you try to hide. I can take hold of you and force you to leave this diner. I’d rather you chose to go because it’s what you want. You pull another stunt like this .. I guess you an’ me will be going on a little journey.” She leaned closer. “I make myself clear?”

Skippy nodded. “Sure,” he said quickly.

Bert groaned faintly.

“Looks like he’s starting to come round,” Merlin declared. “You three had better decide what you’re gonna do next.”

Flipper straightened. “Gotta rewrite the script. C’mon, Lassie. Where’d Skippy go?” he asked, looking around.

“I never saw him leave,” Lassie responded as Bert groaned again. “I’ll find him, you work on the lines. Meet you in the usual place.”

They vanished just as Bert’s eyelids flickered and rose rather sleepily.

“Hey, boss. You okay?” Merlin asked.

“Why am I on the floor?” Bert asked quietly and in a confused voice.

“Can’t you remember ..?” she coaxed.

A frown creased his brow, went away, and returned. “I was … Oh my God … He said boo.”

“Who did?”

Bert sat up. “Didn’t you see them? I thought you could see them! You said you could!”

“I was outside. All I saw was your back. You called something. I think I’ve found them were the exact words. Then you keeled over.” She helped him to his feet. “All because someone said .. boo?” She sighed loudly. “Bert, c’mon, guy. This line of work, you gotta build up a layer of slightly thicker skin, y’know? Won’t be much good to any of us if you keep passing out at the least little thing.”

“I know. It .. it wasn’t so much the word, it was the w-way he grinned,” Bert admitted. “Half his face was smashed in, an’ I kept on expecting .. in that split second .. for his jaw to drop off. What a horrible thing to think! Do I have no compassion? That kid died in a really terrible way an’ I’m supposed to be finding out what happened, an’ all I can think is will the bottom half of his face fall off? Then he said boo, an’ my brain overloaded. I wasn’t expecting anything to actually come out of that mouth, and certainly not .. boo. What kind of investigator am I ever gonna make if I pass out at boo? Woooooo .. now, that I could’ve understood.”

Merlin slowly nodded. “You okay to go on?”

“I think so. I didn’t find out a whole lot, did I?” Bert gazed at the closed freezer door. “I take it they’re not in there anymore?”

“No. I came in to pull you out, an’ there was only you.”

Bert nodded. “Okay. Where to try n- ? Peri?”

“Yes, Bert?”

“You don’t think the reason those kids are haunting this diner,” he began slowly but with definite signs of picking up speed, “is because someone found their bodies an’ brought ’em back here, do you? Stored them in there until the cops could take ’em away?”

She considered. “It’d be .. unusual but possible, I guess.”

“My God,” Bert whispered. “They keep food in there! How unhygienic can it be to store corpses in the same freezer as coffee ice cream? I ate food from in there!” he realized, going slightly green.

“Always assuming that you’re right, it would’ve happened over twenty years ago. I expect it’s been cleaned a few times since then. Maybe even replaced. I think you shouldn’t worry about that. There are other things requiring your attention. If you find out you’re right and it’s still bothering you tomorrow, call the Public Health Department an’ report them,” she suggested.

Bert nodded slowly. “Yeah. Good plan. Okay. Where should we look next?”

“I’m just the backup,” Merlin shrugged. “Where do you think we should look next?”

*****

Skippy hugged his knees to his chest and stared blindly into the peculiarly scented darkness of the trash bin storage room. This was his place. They all had them. When being with the others got too much, they all had their own bolt hole. Lassie’s was no secret – all girls went to the restroom to look at themselves in the mirror and think at length, usually about boys and why boys never did the things the girls wanted. Flipper had a place too, but, like Skippy’s, it was a secret place. Skippy had often wondered but he’d never tried to look. If he had and he’d found it, Flipper would just hunt out Skippy’s secret place. And in a place this size, there weren’t that many places to hide.

Squeezed between the two big dumpsters, Skippy felt the icy fear squeezing his ethereal backbone. It was funny. Funny strange, not funny amusing. He had often smelt the coffee and wished he could drink it, but not because he was thirsty or needed the caffeine. It was the smell. It triggered memories of home and of family and friends. The smell was an emotion, not a sensation. Similarly, when it got dark, he felt sleepy. He wasn’t tired but it was the memory of his bedroom and his bed, of feeling safe. Emotions again, not physical sensations. Right now, the emotion was fear bordering on terror. And that was funny amusing.

Skippy was the unpredictable one. Flipper was older and, if a couple of years could make such a difference, their leader. Lassie was a girl and did girl things. She wanted everyone to get along. Skippy .. was the wild one. The one who was guaranteed to upset Flipper’s plans and make Lassie mad. And yet Skippy was the one who was terrified of things changing.

The thought, the threat, of being hunted down, grabbed and forced to go over …

They wanted it to happen. Not the hunting down and grabbing part, but the journey, yeah, they wanted that. They wouldn’t understand why he didn’t. Skippy .. had secrets, secrets which would come out in any judging of his life.

Skip Delaware was the name he’d known until it had lengthened into Skippy. Skip had been a fairly typical child – slightly spoiled by his parents, not refused very much, but his demands had not been huge. He had then grown into a fairly typical teenager. By the time he was seventeen, Skip Delaware had been hanging with the wrong crowd and getting into trouble. Not major trouble but he had what he chose to call a police record because it sounded cool. At the time, it had scored him points. Then he’d gone to college and his behavior had calmed in some ways, gotten a little wilder in others. Not enough to be thrown out and, again, at the time, it had been cool. Now .. it was coming back to haunt him. He’d been caught underage drinking. He’d been caught with dope. He’d been caught shoplifting right outside the store. He’d dropped acid a couple of times. Minor, typical late teen behavior. Within two years, he’d left it behind. Okay, at college, he’d shared the occasional joint but he never rolled his own. He’d wanted to be a part of the crowd .. and now he was terrified that he’d go to Hell if he was judged. And that was why he wanted to stay.

If he confessed the truth to the others, they would have laughed at him. C’mon, they would’ve said, what’s so bad about that? It’s hardly unusual behavior for a kid your age, is it? You didn’t supply others. You didn’t turn them onto dope or acid. Your cool police record is only actually a series of cautions not to be so dumb in the future – which was true. But, no matter how much he tried to believe it, Skippy kept coming back to one fact. It was his soul, not theirs. His soul would be judged and sent to the place where he deserved to spend eternity. He would go to Hell, not them. Therefore, he would stay here where he was safe.

And then the guilt washed over him. How could he make Flipper and Lassie share this when they didn’t have to and didn’t want to? It wasn’t fair. Skippy thought about it long and hard in the trash scented darkness. Twenty years … It was nothing compared to eternity. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend such a vast period of time. Okay, I could tell ’em I’ve changed my mind, wait till they’re gone, then not go. And then .. I’d be here on my own. No one to talk with except myself. No one to play jokes on or fight with. The highlight of my days will be to walk thru a waitress an’ watch her drop food on the floor … Can you handle that, Skippy? Will it be enough for you? No. It won’t.

Or .. you can stand firm. Tell ’em you’re staying put. If they wanna sacrifice their eternity an’ stay with you, it’s their choice but they can’t bitch about it. You are not choosing for them, only for yourself. Will it change anything? Yes. Try as they might, they are gonna resent you making that choice. Instead of the Three Musketeers, all for one and all that, it’ll be three isolated souls, lost an’ forgotten in the diner at the mountain’s pass. Instead of The Mountain Pass Players, putting on performances of Shakespeare, or Chekhov or Ibsen, whoever the hell they were, and musicals – they did a really great version of Singin’ In The Rain – there would be silence in the theater. The curtain would fall and not rise again. And silence would beget sadness, and sadness would beget despair.

Can you handle that, Skippy? Will it be enough for you? No. It won’t.

He laughed silently. This dumpster here is the rock, an’ this dumpster is the hard place. An’ here am I, sitting between ’em. Ain’t the afterlife grand?

“Skippy ..? Are you in here?”

He tensed. It was Lassie’s voice.

“Skippy .. it’s okay. You don’t have to hide, not from us. Look .. we’re getting ready for Act Two. We need you for this. Whatever it is on your mind, we can talk about it.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if we all got along … Good ol’ Lassie. She’ll go to Heaven.

“Skip .. what do you remember about .. that night?”

“Nothing.”

He rose from his hiding place and went toward the door. Lassie was looking pinched with cold even though she couldn’t feel cold. It seemed all the doubt and suspicion and the sheer length of time had banded together to hit her with one massive blow.

“Nothing at all, Cass. It’s like a black hole in my head.” Skippy leaned against the nearest dumpster, the one he’d christened the hard place. “I remember being in here an’ so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. I remember drinking coffee, an’ taking a pee, then .. walking out to the car. It was a warm night. We could’ve slept in the parking lot. A few hours anyway. I think I remember the engine starting. After that .. I woke up here. Thought I’d dreamed the whole thing. I do remember thinking I must’ve been more tired than I realized. Wasn’t till they opened up the next morning that … ” He fell silent.

She put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Skip. We’ll get thru this together.”

“You’re here because of me. Let’s face it, huh? I wanted someone – anyone, didn’t matter who – to split the expenses with me. If Tommy hadn’t pulled out at the last minute, you wouldn’t be here.”

Lassie smiled. “Three guys stuck here? You’d’ve killed each other way before now.”

“An’ Romeo an’ Juliet would’ve been a non-starter, for sure,” he grinned.

“That is so true.” She paused. “We won’t let her drag you anywhere. If we go or if we stay, it’ll be our choice, not hers.”

Skippy’s grin had faded. “Cass .. I don’t think I can go. I’m not just saying it. I’m not being difficult for the hell of it. I’ve done things, in the past. It’s my soul we’re talking about .. an’ I’m not ready to go to Hell.”

“Maybe you won’t go there,” Lassie replied quietly. “She told me that Heaven an’ Hell do exist but they’re not for the likes of us. Skip, maybe we’re not the people you need to speak with. When the play’s over, talk with Peri. She’ll tell you straight.”

“And .. if I still choose to stay?”

“Then I’ll stay with you. And I won’t bitch about it.”

He nodded but he didn’t believe her.

“Will you come get ready for Act Two?” she asked.

“Sure. You need me for that.”

“But .. no more boo, okay? We have to handle Bert .. very gently.”

Skippy felt the fear trickle ice water down his backbone again. “Okay.”

*****

Bert stood in the passage, trying to decide. “The other main manifestations were .. the janitor’s storeroom and the men’s restroom.” He glanced back. “You got problems with going into the men’s restroom?”

“Any reason why I should?” Merlin inquired.

“It’s for men,” he pointed out.

“Um .. well, yeah, that’s true. I don’t have a problem with going in there. Anyone using the restroom would have the problem of me walking in .. but, as no one is using the restroom just now, I don’t think it should figure highly on our list of concerns. Do you?”

Bert thought it over. “No, I guess not. We’ll go to the janitor’s storeroom.”

He set off. Merlin paused for a moment then, bemused, dutifully followed. Nick thought in straight lines. So did Derek, even if he came from another direction and his approach was broader. Rachel was all science. Alex could digress but stayed on the path. Bert … His thoughts wandered around a maze then struck off in a totally new direction. Despite herself, Merlin was enjoying watching him work. If nothing else, it proved the point that the world was made up of many different types. And it needed all of them to make life interesting.

“You want me to stay outside?” she asked.

“Nick got shut in there. If we both get trapped, can you break us out from the inside? Or would it be easier from the outside?”

“It’s always easier to break in than out.”

“Then you’d better wait outside.”

“Okay. Bert .. you gonna faint again?”

“I don’t schedule that to happen. I don’t factor it into my plans,” he replied, sounding grouchy. “I don’t think .. oh, this would be a good time to pass out. It just happens.”

“Okay. Well, if I hear a thump, I’ll come rescue you.”

“Thanks. It isn’t you, Peri, it’s me. I’m .. trying.”

A few days back, that minor comment would have triggered an avalanche of witty retorts, all said silently within the confines of the thoughts. But it wasn’t a few days back, this was now.

“And you’re succeeding. You’re doing great.”

Bert reached the storeroom door. “Okay. I’m going in.”

Merlin watched him push the door open. “I’ll be right here. If you need help, call.”

He nodded without looking back. Merlin leaned against the opposite wall and folded her arms. As an experiment in human development, Bert was coming along in leaps and bounds. He was still a talker but his words were going in the right direction now and not at a tangent to everyone else. He’d learned how to listen – and that was a very tough lesson for anyone. He’d learned how to apply what he’d heard and seen. Legacy Enforcers were all business; Flamefalls were more than just Enforcers. They fought evil and they also had an unspoken duty to guide and enrich the lives of those who crossed their path. Mostly, they did the guidance part with a brisk lecture, and the enrichment came by setting an example. Merlin was different though. She was interested in people and, provided the job didn’t get in the way, she had time to give to those who felt they weren’t worth very much. And Bert was fun to be with, to teach, and to observe.

Bert took two steps into the storeroom and felt for the light switch. The bulb buzzed as power went thru it. It was a thin, dreary little light, smothered in a film of grease and years of dust. There were shelves along two walls with packets of paper towels and rolls of toilet paper, bags of liquid soap, bottles of disinfectant and bleach, cloths for cleaning. Three pails were by the sink. Mops stood leaning lazily in one corner. Off to his left, there was a large, low set sink formed from cast iron and enamel. Scrubbing brushes were drying on the small window ledge. Along the fourth wall, two electric buffing machines were idle. There was a plain, straight back wooden chair. A mirror screwed onto one wall. A small table with a kettle, a mug, a jar of instant coffee – Bert frowned at these; why have them in a diner? Couldn’t the janitor get free coffee? – and a three day old newspaper opened to the crossword puzzle. This was a little home from home for whoever worked here.

I will not faint, Bert told himself. I will not let myself get spooked by weird things. This is too important. I have to help these people .. but before I can help them, I have to understand what’s going on. I need to talk with them. I can’t do that if I keep on passing out.

“Are you in here?” he asked and sighed at the way it emerged. Thin. Weedy. And with a faint quiver of unease. Bert cleared his throat. “Are you in here?” he repeated, deliberately lowering his voice. That’s better, he decided. I'll have to remember that.

A bottle of bleach wobbled on the shelf, then rose and sailed slowly across the room to the sink. Bert felt his eyes widen and his heart pick up a little.

“Can you show yourself? I want to help. Really. I’ll try not to faint again. That doesn’t help anyone, does it?”

One of the electric floor buffing machines whirred into life and began to creep toward him. Bert’s gaze followed the cable and he swallowed when he saw the plug was nowhere near the electrical outlet. He sidestepped the machine and watched it bump against the wall just behind him. Cloths were starting to flutter and dance. The faucet turned on and water cascaded into the sink.

“Wow … ” Bert breathed. “That’s great. A week ago .. I could never have imagined this ever happening outside a special effects studio. And I’m seeing it for myself … It really is fantastic, an’ I’m very grateful to you, but it doesn’t help explain why you’re here.”

The floor buffer bumped against his leg and Bert glanced round at it. He froze when he saw someone pushing it. It was the girl. She looked so sad, so resigned to her fate that Bert felt his heart squeeze with sympathy.

“Can you talk ..?” he asked her. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes met his and she faded slowly from sight.

“No! No, don’t go!” he begged.

The faucet turned off and Bert looked to the sink. One of the guys stood there. Slowly, he turned toward Bert.

“I want to help you. I need to understand. Can you hear me? Can you talk to me?”

The smashed, shattered face dissolved and Bert felt failure threatening to swamp him. How could he do anything if he couldn’t communicate?

He sighed miserably and turned for the door only to find the third ghost, the one who’d said boo earlier, standing right behind him

“Jesus!” Bert gasped, stepping back and falling over the floor buffer. The ghost disappeared.

Merlin came in to see Bert getting up. “I heard a thump. I thought you’d fainted again.”

“No, I fell over this,” he said, pushing the machine back to its place. “Did you see the stuff floating around? This bottle was over there. And the cloths were all neatly folded till they started dancing. The faucet turned on an’ off.” Briskly, he was returning everything to where it should be.

“Why are you doing that?” Merlin asked.

“I don’t want ’em to get into trouble,” he replied, shrugging. “It’s what I do a lot – clear up after people to stop ’em getting into trouble.”

“They’re ghosts, Bert. What kinda trouble could they get into?” she frowned.

He halted, his shoulders dropping. “Look, I won’t lie an’ say I know what I’m doing cos I don’t. I’m probably way off here but .. I just have this feeling inside that these kids are in enough trouble already. Being stuck here for all this time .. it’s like an unending prison sentence for them. There is hope of parole but only if someone can find the key to release them. Right? Well, I figure that, if the janitor comes in tomorrow an’ finds all the stuff’s been moved around, he, or she, could very well say something to whoever sits in the office, an’ that person could bring in someone who isn’t so sympathetic an’ could do a lot of harm by forcing them to go on to where they should be without them being able to .. I don’t know, finish off whatever’s keeping ’em here. I don’t want that to happen so I’m clearing up the evidence.”

Merlin watched him shrug awkwardly and not meet her eyes. “Bert, that’s a very kind an’ generous thing to do for these ghosts.”

He looked around shyly. “It feels the right thing to do, Peri. I saw ’em. God, I have to do something more than just .. destroy the evidence. What if this is some cry for help? What if .. they have been doing this for twenty years an’ no one’s taken any notice? The janitor could be one of those people who never remembers anything. Comes in here each day an’ thinks this is how he left it … ”

“Well .. anything’s possible,” Merlin agreed.

Bert switched off the light and went back into the corridor. “How can I do it if I can’t communicate?”

“You can. You are,” she pointed out. “You have.”

“But they’re not answering!”

“They are .. in their own way. One spoke to you before.”

“Boo hardly answers a lot of questions,” Bert remarked. “Boo does not constitute communication.”

“Before that. In the restroom. You had a long conversation.”

He straightened. “My God .. I did, didn’t I?” He set off at a brisk walk.

“Restroom?” Merlin queried, trotting along behind.

“Absolutely!” Bert slowed and glanced back. “Could you give me five minutes alone in there?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I wanna pee.”

*****

“Did you hear that?” Lassie whispered.

“He’s a nice guy,” Flipper nodded. “He has our best interests at heart. Skippy .. nice job. Very nice. It was almost choreography.”

“The temptation must have been huge,” Lassie added, “but you resisted.”

Skippy didn’t want to be reminded about that. “Yeah, I wanted to bug out my eyes or something but .. I got the result I wanted. He fell on his ass.”

“But he didn’t faint. That’s good.” Flipper straightened. “Act Three, people.”

“This is your big scene,” Skippy commented. “You’ll do great. You always do, man. Acting’s in your blood .. or would be, if you had any.”

Flipper grinned. “Guys,” he then said, his voice more sober, “if you wanna chip in, you have to. I know what it’s like being a ghost but .. I’ve only got my own experiences. It may be different for you. We have to give Bert as full a picture as we can. Then .. maybe .. he will be able to find out why we’re here.”

They nodded.

“And,” Flipper went on, “knowing why we’re here doesn’t mean we have to leave. Okay, Skip?”

“Thanks.”

“Five minutes must be just about done,” Lassie said.

“Yeah. He must be zipping his fly an’ washing his hands around now,” Skippy grinned. “I still say that guy could pee for America.”

“He would, if he was asked to,” Flipper laughed. “Let’s go.”

*****

“Bert? Can I come in yet?” Merlin called.

“Just a second!”

He has a lot of endurance, she mused. A lot of stamina. It’s nearly four in the morning now and he still isn’t flagging. I guess the guy is really motivated to solve this problem. If he ever decides to quit the TV industry, he could do a lot as a paranormal investigator. Alex would be surprised at just how much compassion Bert has in his heart.

“Okay, you can come in,” Bert said.

She pushed open the door and found the restroom rather crowded. Bert turned slowly from the view in the mirror and blinked rapidly when it didn’t change as he confronted it directly.

“We heard what you said, in the storeroom,” said one of them. “We want to accept your offer of help.”

“You do?” Bert gasped. “Oh! That’s fabulous! Um, my name is Bert. That’s Peri .. but you’ve met her already. She’s .. some kinda psychic .. bounty hunter but she’s real nice once you get to spend time with her. She gets, er, grouchy when she’s woken up too fast.”

He watched the three ghosts glance and frown at each other.

“Bert,” Merlin said, “they don’t wanna hear about me.”

Bert gazed at her then his face cleared. “Oh! Right! Yeah, absolutely. I said I wanted to help an’ I do. Very much. But, to help, Peri an’ I need information.”

“Did you just say .. bounty hunter?” another of the ghosts queried.

“Uh huh,” Bert warily confirmed. “Is this a problem?”

“It could be. It depends what exactly she hunts and what bounty there could be.”

Merlin leaned back against the door, perfectly calm and relaxed. Bert had dug himself into this hole, he could dig himself out again.

“Well .. I don’t exactly know what she hunts nor what kinda bounty there might possibly be but, if you were to ask me – ”

“We are asking you,” the girl ghost interrupted.

“Right. Well, I would have to say that Peri hunts down .. dangerous things. And you’re not dangerous. Worst you’ve done is throw a cake. And shut Rachel in the cold store. I would be forced to say – ”

“Forced? By whom?” the first ghost demanded. “Is she forcing you to say this?”

“No. What I mean is the circumstances force me, as in compel or urge me, to say that you have nothing to worry about where Peri’s concerned. Isn’t that right, Peri?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Merlin responded.

“I could use a slightly more positive reaction,” Bert invited.

“Well, I say I’m not the issue under discussion here. These ghosts are. But, if they have doubts about my credentials, we can talk about that later, in private. The things I hunt and bring in aren’t suitable topics for mixed company. Is that more positive?”

Bert looked at the ghosts. He took a mental step back and marveled at what he was doing. He wasn’t just seeing ghosts, he was debating with them. Acting as a mediator. This was incredible.

“Is that an acceptable compromise?” he asked. “I admit, I’ve only known Peri for a few days but .. I’m sure the others will vouch for her. You are not things. You’re ghosts, and, I maintain, pretty harmless.”

The ghosts went into a huddle for a few moments then separated again. “We’ll put it on hold .. for now. Nothing’s been decided yet,” the girl ghost announced.

“And I take exception to being called pretty harmless,” the blond haired ghost added. “Ow! Why’d you jab me in the metaphysical ribs?”

“Because boasting that you’re not harmless in front of a bounty hunter could be considered pretty dumb,” the dark haired ghost responded, “especially when a certain prior conversation is recalled ..?”

“Right. Forget I said that.”

“Consider it forgotten,” Bert smiled. “Okay. To business then. Let’s start with – ”

“Do you know what it’s like to be a ghost?” the dark haired one began. “Scientists have tried, for years, to prove that we exist. A phantom. A spirit. A specter. A .. manifestation. They give us these labels and then dismiss us as impossible. Ghosts don’t exist.”

Bert had the decency to blush slightly.

“And, yet, here we are. Bound to this earthly plane by bonds of invisible steel. We can do so much more than we ever could when shackled inside our corporeal bodies and yet we are denied freedom. We can walk thru walls, doors, solid matter, as if it were not there. We can even walk thru people. Yet we cannot pass beyond the boundaries to the world outside. We can see the world but we cannot touch it or experience it. Being a ghost, quite frankly, is boring.”

He paused. “It isn’t so bad for us. We are three, together. We can tolerate this existence because, while no one else can hear us, or see us, we can. We can attempt to reason our way to understanding how we are here. One of us, alone, would go crazy. You said before about a cry for help. How many of those cries go unheeded? How many phantoms weep in the night because they know they are trapped, not just in this world but in silence? Forever denied a voice … Is it any wonder that people are scared to see us? By the time a cry for help is detected, the spirit is beyond that help, locked into their prison and driven to pacing in their madness.”

Merlin rolled her eyes at this overblown rhetoric, but Bert was staring, completely absorbed.

“We’re not mad,” the girl ghost said hastily. “But there’ve been times I have wanted to scream. Time is on two speeds for us. It really doesn’t feel like two decades have passed, it’s gone by so fast, an’ yet, nothing’s really changed, not for us, not in here. Out there .. yeah. Automobiles are different shapes now. We’ve seen people using these rinky dink individual phones.”

“Cell phones,” Bert nodded. “Nearly everyone has one these days.”

“We don’t. All we have it is what you see.”

“All we can do is what you’ve experienced,” the blond ghost commented.

“All we are .. is all there is,” the dark haired ghost concluded. “Doomed to haunt this diner on a back road at the top of the mountain pass.”

“Wow,” Bert breathed.

“Do you understand now what it is like to be a ghost?”

“Yeah. It’s sad. You suffer enormously .. yet, to most people, you don’t exist or they don’t believe in you.” Bert shook his head. “They give you labels and try to do experiments. You’re like lab rats .. only invisible, unheard ones.”

There was a long, depressing silence, then the dark haired ghost seemed to shake himself and said, rather formally, “I understand you work in television.”

“Yeah, I do,” Bert replied in a distant voice.

“I .. we would consider it a favor if you could tell us about what you do.”

“Sure,” Bert agreed. “But not now.”

“Not now? In the morning, you’ll leave. You’ll forget about us. If not now, when?”

“Later, okay? Now we have a problem to solve. Why are you here? Why are you haunting this diner? There has to be a reason you didn’t go on, a reason you came back. I’m determined I’m gonna find it. And, once I have, sure, I’ll tell you about being an .. Executive Producer in TV.”

The dark haired ghost regarded him. “That’s the deal, huh? First, you’ll just solve this small problem, something we haven’t managed to do in twenty years, but you’ll do it in a couple of hours max, an’ then you’ll tell us about what it’s like working in TV.”

Bert considered, then he shrugged slightly. “Yeah. That’s the deal.”

Continue to Chapter 13 Return to Home