This Girl Who Was A Ghost, page 12
part #2 of Near Future Series
“There’s twelve us and only one of you.”
“And I’m the one who got knocked in the head.” Sammy thumped on the door. “Come in and knock some sense into them.” Sammy laughed, thinking of a slapstick comedy skit of banging heads.
Two girls in front let the violins slip from their grasp, and their hands fluttered out as if they were treading water. Their knees buckled before they collapsed over their fallen violins.
Sammy pushed off from the door, expecting them to get up and do an encore. She laughed. It seemed overly dramatic. “Are you going to say there are ten of you now?”
Another fell in less dramatic fashion. “Now it’s nine little Indians,” Sammy said, letting out a loud laugh. She dropped to one knee, trying to catch her breath.
The others, still standing, swayed slightly as if they were on a boat and getting seasick.
“It’s the air!”
Two others dropped.
“Bang on the door,” she shouted to the other kid across the room. Sammy clenched her fists and pounded as hard as she could.
The kid slapped the door at his end. The background music ratcheted up.
Another kid dropped.
Sammy slid down along the side of the door. “Bastards!” The room started to tilt and twirl.
The kid at the other end looked like a blind guy, trying to find something to hold onto.
Sammy scrambled to her knees and peered into the lock. If she had her picks, she could’ve opened it. “I need clips, pins, whatever you got!”
The four who remained standing patted down their shirts, reminding Sammy of Uncle Danny trying to find money when he was high.
“It’s too late.” Sammy close her eyes and just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. A jolt ran up her spine as she thought about the bastard laughing his ass off with a million bucks stuffed in his pockets.
Sammy stood and took an unsteady step toward the collapsed group. One brave soul still stood. She’d never get there and check for pins and clips in time. The violin was by her feet. Did it have anything she could use?
She dropped to her knees and opened up the case. The end of the strings anchored into the body were stiff. She might be able to bend them into shape. Sammy spun the tuning peg at the top of the neck, loosening the string enough to pull it out, and then bent the string into a pick wrench.
The last kid fell into the jumble of felled bodies and violin cases.
Sammy bent the other string’s tip as best she could for the pick. Everything was getting a little blurry. She stumbled getting to the door, blinking to keep the room from spinning. She slipped the wrench in and felt for the pins with the pick. Sweat beaded her forehead, drops rolling down and stinging her eyes. What pin was she on now? Did she get the last pin?
She wiped her forehead on her sleeve. “Focus on the bastard.” Another jolt. The pins were down. She turned the wrench, unlocking the door. She fumbled for the knob, but the damned door opened in. Sammy leaned away and fell back, opening the door. It felt like cool water on a hot beach. She crawled out into the lobby and lay down. “Where is everybody?”
She rolled onto her side. The kids were spread out on the floor like fallen logs. She had to get them out but didn’t have the strength. She yelled for help. Her voice couldn’t break through the blaring music. Sammy grabbed the edge of the door and swung it back and forth, hoping to fan out whatever the creep was pumping in. The breeze revived her enough to get up on all fours. She crawled to the kid who was a few feet from the door and dragged him out. It seemed to take forever, and she had eleven more to go. She yelled again for help, but couldn’t pierce through the music.
Sammy slapped the kid’s face. “Wake up. I need help.”
His eyes barely fluttered.
“Shit.” She took a deep breath and crawled back in. With each step, her head pounded as if somebody were using it as a drum. She pulled the next kid out, quicker this time, and tried to revive him with a slap to the face and a plea for help.
Sammy turned to go back in. Would there be enough time to save them all? The thought of that creep laughing over drinks on a beach while the parents wept over the dead flushed Sammy’s cheeks. She stood unsteady at first, knees weak, then trudged in and grabbed two by the arms, feeling like an oxen plowing a field of rocks.
The first kid she’d dragged out looked as if he was just waking.
Sammy leaned over, panting. “I need help.”
He turned his head toward her but didn’t show any signs of getting up.
Now she was getting mad at him for not even trying. She walked back in, steadier this time, and dragged the next two out, feeling a little more like herself now. “Wake up, asshole.”
The kid raised his head, looking around as though he didn’t know where he was.
“I need help.”
He stared at her as if she were a phantom.
Sammy stormed back in, doubly mad now, and dragged the remainder out as quickly as she could. The kids were fanned out by the door, like trees felled by an explosion.
The first kid finally sat up, running his fingers through his hair. “What happened?”
Sammy leaned back against the wall. “Carbon monoxide poisoning is my guess. Think you can get help?”
He rolled to the side and nodded. “Got a wicked headache.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
He held onto the wall, steadying himself. “Were they trying to kill us?”
Sammy nodded. “Go on. Some of these kids are going to need more than fresh air.”
He glanced down at them, some stirring. He treaded down the lobby, holding onto the wall as he tottered away.
The music was turned down lower. Sammy felt another jolt and grabbed her violin by the neck.
The second kid sat up. “Why did they try to kill us?”
“Four million bucks is why,” Sammy said, waving the violin. “I got my own violin concerto to play on this thing.”
“You’re missing strings.”
“The notes I’ll be playing won’t need strings.” Sammy marched through the alcove and into the concert hall. She climbed the steps up to the stage, hugging the wall.
Hand-trailer Guy’s back was to her as he talked to Clara. Sammy stepped behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned. Sammy swung the violin, smashing the base across his face. Spit and teeth flew in the other direction. He twirled and crumpled to the floor.
Clara backed away, sheer terror marking her face. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
The violin folded limply in her hands, held together by a couple of strings. “That asshole tried to kill us while you were standing out here with your head up your ass.”
“What?”
Sammy tossed the broken violin and strode down the stage steps. “Check the ventilation system in that room, Clara. Can you do that?”
A mother knelt beside her daughter, rocking her in her arms. Sammy stood there a moment, hoping the kid would wake up. Other parents streamed down the lobby toward them. The girl’s eyes fluttered open. “Momma?”
Sammy nodded and stepped around the awakening group. She flung open the heavy door and headed out into the late afternoon sun.
Chapter Twenty-Six
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Sammy stood on the mat in front of the uneven bars in the Gymnastics Center. If she couldn’t fly through the trees, then she could at least swing on the bars. Cindy had told her she should lie down after almost suffocating, but she had this excess energy she needed to work off. It was dark, but she could see fine. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her shirt, and dropped her trousers.
She swung on the low bar with her feet up, getting enough momentum to leap to the high bar. She rotated, switching hand over hand, changing direction. Her arms and core were surprisingly strong even though it had been weeks since she was here last. Sammy let go at the top of her swing, giving herself enough height for a somersault, but she chickened out and settled for a twist. She stumbled slightly, landing sideways. The sound of feet shuffling outside the room paralyzed her.
“Hello?”
Sammy dashed to the wall and blended between two shelves of supplies.
The owner stepped into the room, feeling the wall for the light switch. Light flooded the room.
Sammy closed her eyes, peering out through slits until her eyes adjusted.
The lady scanned the room, spotting Sammy’s clothes on the mat. She picked up the trousers, examining them as if they were something foreign to her, then collected the shirt and shoes as well, putting everything into a ball and tucking it under her arm. She checked the window.
Sammy had entered through the front door by picking the lock.
The lady took one more look around then strolled out, turning off the lights.
Sammy raced to the doorway and spotted the lady plodding down the stairs to the first floor.
“Does she have a clothes fetish?” Sammy headed down the steps after her. The first floor was mostly a narrow hallway. One end led to the front door and the other to a back room. A dim light from within the room gave form to the doorway. Her clothes were bunched on top of a set of cabinet drawers outside.
Sammy crept toward the room, dressed in her panties and bra so she wasn’t completely invisible.
“I don’t know who it was,” the lady said from inside the room. “It looked like a kid by the clothes.”
Sammy snatched her kid clothes and rushed to the front door. It was clear, so she dashed out and put her clothes on. She started walking, wishing she had another twenty minutes on the uneven bars. Before she knew it, she was headed toward midtown. She hadn’t been there since shedding her fingers, which brought Leo to mind. She hadn’t seen him since, but she did have a dream of him making calamari from the fingers and offered her a plate of it with tomato sauce for dipping.
The sidewalks got thicker with people rushing to nowhere in particular. Food vendors of all types populated the walk. The last time she’d been starving. Now she was just a little hungry. The hands did help her get food, though. Sammy passed on the sausage buns no matter how quaint Darla looked today. Up the next block a crowd gathered around another street vendor. Sammy weaseled along the side of the crowd to see what the fuss was about.
“Shish Cow Bob,” said the short, stocky guy on the other side of the cart. He wore a bow tie and suspenders with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “It’s not a mariachi band. No, it’s succulent meat and vegetables gently roasted on a stick.” He flashed a pointed stick in front of the crowd, then waved his hand in front, turning the stick into a shish kebab.
The crowd oohed. Uncle Danny had done that with coins and cards all the time. One hand holds the thing and the other hand distracts. Maybe she could do her own distraction.
“For less than five dollars you can satisfy not only your hunger, but also a passion. Remember, I push the meat in and you pull the meat out, and we still remain friends when it’s all said and done.”
The crowd laughed.
Sammy’s face twisted at the remark. “Gross.”
He turned to her with a slight jerky motion. Was he a bot? “You haven’t tried my meat yet, and no strolls through the park required.”
A trickle of laughter filtered through the crowd. A lady stepped forward and bought one.
Sammy inched along the side to get a better look at him. The bottom part of his body melded into the base of the counter. Along the side read, “Sandy Shish Kebab, go to our site for investment opportunities.”
“Please step back. I don’t let just anyone touch my sticks.”
Sammy drifted back. “If that isn’t the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Sammy did a bump and switch, ending up with a cold slice of pizza. She wondered if there was still some soup left at home. She found a choice seat in the middle of the park where all the jumbo screens converged. When the movie trailers played, she felt as if she were in the middle of the action. In one she was among the stars with a galactic war unfolding, while in another she was trapped out in a storm on horseback riding along an endless prairie.
She stood and stuffed the folded bag into her pocket for another bump and switch.
Maria Santiago popped onto the screen. “The avenging angel and a devilish plot. Stay tuned after these messages.”
Sammy scoured the ground for a rock to throw at one of the projectors, hoping to knock her teeth out. Robota the housecleaning robot was on again.
“I bet she’s got a dozen of those bots at home following her around and cleaning up her mess.”
A cop came on, bathed in camera lights. “Yeah, they all would’ve been dead if it weren’t for her.”
“All twelve?”
“Thirteen including her.”
The camera cut to a woman with tearstained cheeks. “She is angel,” she said with an accent as she clutched a kid.
The camera zoomed in on a tear flicked away on a blink from another woman holding a kid. “All I can say is thank you.”
The camera cut to a guy pacing, looking as if he’d drunk too much coffee. “I don’t have much, but what I do have is hers.”
Sammy stepped closer, looking for something familiar. “Is this from the concert hall?”
One of the girls she recognized came on. “She hit the guy with her violin and yelled for us to get out of there.”
“Did you try to get out?”
She shook her head. “We thought she was nuts.”
The camera cut to Amanda Ryan. “She had my name tag. I couldn’t get here the first night because my grandma was sick.”
“She was trying to impersonate you?”
Amanda shrugged. “She said her name was Amanda Bryan and that there was a mix-up.”
“Did she have a parent with her?”
“I didn’t see any.”
The camera cut to the kid who was at the other door. “We banged on the doors, but they just turned up the music so nobody could hear us.”
“What happened after that?”
“She asked for a pin or something, but everybody was nearly out. Then she started unstringing her violin.”
“What for?”
“Must’ve used it to unlock the door. I saw the strings by the door and the end shafts were bent.”
“What happened after you came to?”
“I saw her holding the violin by the neck, swinging it like a bat. She said she had a concerto to play. I thought it was a little strange for her to be playing a concerto being the way things were. She was missing strings too,” he said, dwelling on it. “She said she didn’t need strings for what she was planning.”
The camera cut to a guard. “She got him pretty good. He had to be carried out of here.”
“Who was he?”
“Him and another guy were setting up the show.”
“Anything unusual about the setup?”
“They wanted to bring flammable materials in here for a fire.”
The camera cut to the cop who’d opened the show. “I can only confirm that there was an unusually high amount of carbon monoxide in the room.”
“Was the ventilation system tampered with?”
“It’s still under investigation.”
“Were there any signs of how that much carbon monoxide got into the room?”
“Still under investigation.”
“Isn’t a fire in an unvented room the leading cause of carbon monoxide poisoning?”
“That’s my understanding,” he said, ducking away.
Maria flashed her pearly whites for a little too long. “We have a mystery girl going by the name of Amanda Bryan. Is it an alias? What was she doing here? We have fire and carbon monoxide. Is this just a coincidence or is there something more sinister here? I’m Maria Santiago from Chasing News. Follow us as we dig for more answers in the case of the avenging angel.”
Sammy huffed. “She’s got more spin than a tornado.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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A shadow cast over Sammy as if someone was leaning over her. She jerked awake.
Cindy jumped back, clutching her chest. “You scared me.”
Sammy’s chest was thumping. It was afternoon by how the light streamed through the opened curtains of her bedroom. “What were you doing?”
“Checking on you. I was afraid that poison got to you.”
Sammy lay back and let out a long, slow breath. “Poison-free but died of a heart attack.”
“I couldn’t see your chest rising.”
“I got no chest, that’s why.”
Cindy sat on the bed. “It’s getting late, and I was worried about you.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“I’d call Mama, but I don’t think they want us around anymore.”
“I’m okay.”
“How about Leo?”
“No, definitely not him. He’s got a thing about taking blood. I think he’s part vampire.”
Cindy crinkled her nose. “Imagine drinking blood?”
Sammy flipped the covers off and rolled to the other side of the bed. She felt a little light-headed.
“I didn’t catch Maria Santiago’s show,” Cindy said, rolling the covers between her fingers. “Was watching the Howling Monkeys’ concert.”
“You didn’t miss anything.”
“You saw it?”
Sammy nodded.
“Is she ever going to do that show with you and the twins?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“What are we going to do, Sam?”
Sammy looked back at Cindy. “Don’t worry about Igor. He’s a toothless tiger, and he knows it.”
“I told him it’d be straightened out.”
“So I’ll tell him it isn’t.”
Cindy sighed. “I’m afraid to go out, and I can’t work.”
“Johnny owes me money, lots of money. I’ll pay him a visit, and if I have to hold him upside down and shake out some loose change, I will.”
“He’s a big guy, Sam.”
When she’d had the long hands, it would’ve been a snap. She should’ve paid him a visit weeks ago.
