Spookshow, page 12
part #1 of Ghost Zero Series
I stumbled around the corner. Micah stood at the old stove, her back to me, blond hair lit by the slanting, morning sun. I sighed, hating myself for even thinking that Mom could be there. She was gone.
Micah turned and smiled at me. “Hey, sleepy head! Did you want scrambled eggs, or…” Her face fell and she sat the pan down and trotted over to me, wrapping my face in her hands. “Hey. Eddie? What is it? Did you have another dream?”
I closed my eyes and felt a tear roll down my cheek, my hands squeezing hers before pulling them away from my face and into a hug.
“No, no. I just…” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I just thought she might be here.”
She wrapped her arms around me tight, kissing the hair on the side of my head. Her sigh blew across my ear. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I know how it feels.”
I nodded, pulling back, feeling a little stupid. Of course she knew how it felt. She may not have been as close to her mother as I had been to mine, but her mother was just as gone.
“I know. Thanks.” I murmured and walked to the sink to clean a couple of glasses to use. “Have you been up long?” I asked.
“Uh, a while, yeah.” She answered, pausing. “Look, Eddie, he’s here. He’s been hanging around. “
I nodded, frowning. I hadn’t worn the ring since I had driven back to the Horton house after killing Pluto. I carried it around in my pocket, but I couldn’t bear what he might say. I was still angry, I guess. Of course, Micah didn’t need a ring to see ghosts, and he’d been showing up in the house more and more often of late. I’m sure she didn’t care much for seeing her dead father, either. I had to do something.
“Ok, alright,” I said, setting down a glass. “I’ll have a talk with him.” My heart thudded with nerves just at the thought of it. I wished, with all my heart, that I could just put the whole thing behind me. I knew I was just kidding myself, though.
“You’re sure?” Micah asked, her forehead wrinkled. “I can come with you, if you’d like.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I…I need to be able to deal with him. It needs to be me, alone.”
She nodded, and I walked back into the hall, opened the door to the basement, and soon found myself passing through the secret door that led into the darkened safe room. Dust was thick in the clammy air, and I stumbled around a bit for the light switch before turning it on. It looked empty, but I knew it wasn’t. I could feel him nearby like a clinging shadow. I sighed.
“Well, get to it.” I said to myself, fishing the cold, bronze band from my jeans pocket and slipping it on my finger.
He was suddenly there, a black pillar standing a few feet ahead of me, his eyes emotionless and cold.
“Edmund.”
“I know. Look, I don’t want to hear anything about not being in contact, okay? I needed some space to work things out…to bury my Mom and….well, there’s Micah.” I realized that I’d been looking down at my feet, afraid to meet his eyes. I flushed and forced myself to face him.
“You need to stay away from her, by the way. You’re weirding her out, and she doesn’t need that after…” I paused, not sure how Pallentine would react to my mention of his recently deceased wife. My heart was pounding. Why did I have to be so nervous?
“Edmund, here.” He held out his hand to me, in which was a small, silver key. I blinked at him.
“What’s this?”
“It is a key to the safe under the dresser in the corner. Open it.”
I squinted my eyes and turned to the corner of the room that contained the small bed I’d slept in after our house burned down. I looked back at his face. What if there was something in the safe that was worse than the ring?
“Why?” I asked.
He did not stir, standing as still as a statue.
“Open it.”
I sighed. I felt a little like Ebenezer Scrooge with the third ghost, but I walked over and shouldered the dresser aside. In the floor, covered under a thick layer of dust, was a steel door about a foot wide, and nearly as tall. A small disk of metal on the door slid to the side and I could see a keyhole.
I looked back up at him for a second, but he was expressionless, so I pushed the key in, turned it to the right, and the door popped open. I lifted it the rest of the way and squinted inside, seeing a stack of papers, a small notebook, a folder…and a few bars of shining gold.
“Holy cow,” I whispered, touching the surface of the gold bar before pulling it up, surprised at how heavy it was. I looked back to Charles, who was standing closer.
“Reserve funds.” He said. “I secreted away a bit of liquid cash in each safe house in case I needed it. It belongs to you now, as well as this.”
“Wh-what?” I stammered as he reached a ghostly hand down and pulled out a piece of paper from the folder inside. He handed it to me.
I held it up to the light so I could read the faded writing. I could tell it looked very official. “What is this?”
“It is the deed.” The ghost answered. “To the house. I owned the house, and hired Mrs. Horton to care for it. You need a place to stay, and all of our equipment is here. It is logical that the house should belong to you.”
I was speechless. I had suddenly gone from having nothing in the world but things some kind people brought me, to owning a house and having….well, more money than I’d ever seen. Still, just because he was acting generous didn’t mean I trusted the ghost.
“What’s the catch?” I asked, trying to keep the look of confusion off my face.
“There is none.” He replied. “If we are to continue operating in this area, we need a base of operations. This one will suffice.”
My heart fell into my stomach and my shoulders got heavy. I dropped my head into my hands and sighed.
“Look, no offence, but I don’t WANT a base of operations. I don’t want to chase down killers! I just want things to be normal!” I was standing, without realizing I had done so.
“Things are not normal.” Charles corrected. “They have never BEEN normal. You were only blind to what was going on around you. If you had been aware, you might have been prepared when the burning ghost came to your house.” My face flushed hot with his words.
“If you fail to prepare THIS time, you may not survive yourself! And Micah…”
“STOP!” I yelled so loudly it hurt my throat. “You stop and LISTEN to me! There isn’t going to BE a next time, alright?” I held my fist up at him, clutching the ring. “I’m done with this whole vigilante business, okay? Maybe you enjoy running around killing people, but I don’t have to be a part of it!”
Pallentine started at me, his face emotionless. “If you ignore your responsibility, you will suffer. Those around you will suffer, boy.”
“Stop pushing him around!” My head whipped around to see Micah standing in the door to the safe room. Her eyes were fiery and her fists were clenched at her side. “You had your chance at a life, and you chose to give it up…to die in this awful cellar!” She marched up and stood next to me. “Well, now it’s Eddie’s turn for a life, and he’s got to make the decisions for himself.” She took a step toward him. “You need him. He doesn’t need you!”
Pallentine met his daughter’s eyes for a moment, then looked away into the dark.
“You will realize your mistake,” he whispered. “When you do, I hope it isn’t too late…for both of you.” With that, he started backing away from us, passing through tables and support beams like they weren’t there. “I’ve waited for many years. I can wait longer.”
“I can wait.”
He was gone. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize that I had been holding, and reached out for Micah’s hand. She took mine and looked up at me, smiling.
“This is our chance, Eddie…me and you. We’ll prove him wrong.”
I smiled back and pulled her close to me, her warmth making me feel alive with hope. I looked down at the ring on my hand and slowly pulled it off.
“I hope you’re right.” I said.
I bent down, dropped the ring into the bottom of the safe with a heavy clank, and closed the door, locking it tight.
I hope you’re right.
Ghost Zero will return in
THE MIDNIGHT SOCIETY
Acknowledgments
The Revenant (Charles Pallentine) had his birth in the early 2000’s through a collaborative, pulp-hero, writing project with a group of folk I met online. Through them, the Midnight Society was born, and I got my first real writing experience. To all of you (Doc Midnight, Mister Mercury, Bogatyr and Captain Thunder) I thank you for the experience, and will always remember sitting in my spot at Secret’s Crossing.
In late 2006, I wanted to create a web comic featuring the best pulp hero I could come up with. I thought it would be cool to continue the Revenant saga, but with someone younger and more inexperienced holding the Spirit Ring. Ghost Zero was born. Of course, I was new to the whole webcomic experience, and I don’t know if I would have had the guts to even try if it weren’t for the support of my talented friend and sculptor, Eric Nocella Diaz. Thanks, buddy.
Anthony Schiavino has been a great friend and supporter of my creative efforts, often lending solid advice and his skills as a designer to make my projects sing. I’m in your debt.
My brother Mike and best friend Paul Murphy are fountains of inspiration and ideas that I continue to return to again and again to bounce story ideas off of. This book wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for them.
I have too many things to thank my wife, Ann for. Her dedication to my projects has sometimes exceeded my own. I love you.
And finally to the members of Gravedigger Local 66, who read through the early writing of this novel and gave fantastic feedback that (hopefully) will keep me from looking like a fool, thanks for coming along!
And thank you, dear reader. I hope you enjoyed your visit to Secret’s Crossing and will return again.
-Dave Flora, January 25, 2014
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dave Flora grew up on a diary farm in Kentucky, where a strange combination of rural living, ghost stories and comic books made him the man he is today. He began drawing superheroes at a young age, and enjoyed creating his own characters and telling stories about them. He never stopped.
Dave has self-published two Ghost Zero comics, Ghosts with Guns and The Vigilante Crypt, and his 1950’s B-movie, scifi webcomic, Doc Monster, was a finalist in DC Comic’s webcomic competition in 2010. He has done numerous illustrations for books, games, and magazines.
Dave has starred in 18 local community theatre productions, was a navy reservist, a Freemason, and once ran over a cow with a tractor. She was fine.
He lives with his wife and cat in an 1810 log cabin.
You can find Dave online at:
His blog: http://www.daveflora.blogspot.com
Twitter: @dave_flora
Facebook: Dave Flora Presents
Dave Flora, Spookshow
