The usual warnings apply to this week's installment. I'm not trying to offend, so if foul language and adult situations are not what you are looking for, read no farther. For those of us who don't mind that kind of thing, thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoy!
Stirling sat on a cement crash barrier in a Safeway parking lot feeling wretched. He’d already downed more painkillers than it said was safe on the bottle, but given how his head and neck felt, his kidneys start could do their part for the cause.
He’d never been in a serious car accident before, and up to this point had no way to fully appreciate what smashing two tones of steel into a stationary object did to the human body. He ached everywhere and his head was pounding harder than the worst three hangovers of his life.
When Magnon arrived ten minutes later, things hadn’t improved to any noticeable degree. Tylenol might be hell on wheels for headaches, but lacked the needed strength when you’ve had seven shades of shit kicked out of you. In those circumstances, you needed something stronger, morphine, high proof alcohol, Tylenol Threes, or failing any of those, an enormous joint. Until all this was all over though, he needed as clear a head as he could manage, so Tylenol it was.
The crow swooped down from a lamp post and alighted on the barrier next to him.
“Find them?”
“You look like a panda who went 13 rounds with a jackhammer.”
“Yes, yes I do, but did you find them?”
“It wasn’t far. They stole a car and drove to a warehouse.”
Stirling carefully rose to his feet. “Let’s go take a look, shall we?”
“Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital instead?”
“No time for love, Dr. Jones. We know where they are right now. If I go to the hospital I waste a perfectly good car crash.”
What he didn’t say was the longer they held Rebbecca, the more opportunity they would have to do something permanent to her. If they hadn’t already.
He withdrew five hundred dollars from a nearby ATM deciding that the less he did with his credit and debit cards, the better. It wasn’t paranoia when Rag and Bone wanted to eat his face off. He hired one of the cabs parked outside of the grocery store and directed it drop him at an empty lot near the bottom of the hill at First and Clark.
The land on the west side of Clark was filled with warehouses, including the one he’d visited a few days ago for a false rat infestation. The building that Magnon directed him to was an old narrow warehouse with closed steel shutters installed over the windows. It squatted next to a recycling depot that was noisily converting old washing machine parts into compressed blocks of steel. The noise of tortured steel did little for his headache.
“So what now? Going to knock on the front door?” Magnon asked.
“I might.”
Stirling walked the perimeter of the building, a high chain link fence with barbed wire running along the top circled the entire property and the wheeled gate was locked tight. It didn’t look like there would be an easy way in.
He found the part of the fence he thought would be the least conspicuous point of entry. It was a section shielded one one side by a parked cube van, and on the other by a dumpster and outbuilding. He scaled the fence and did his best to arrange a damp cardboard box he’d found slumped next to a telephone pole over the rusty prongs of the barbed wire fence. Much as scissors beat paper, galvanized steel prongs beat soggy cardboard every time. By the time Stirling heaved himself over the fence he had new tears in both his jacket and pants with the bloody scratches to match.
“That looked painful,” the crow commented.
“You know, I’m not sure what I did before I had you to tell me these things,” said Stirling, dabbing at a smear of blood on his calf. He idly tried to remember the last time he had a tetanus booster.
The back side of the warehouse had a number of bays for shipping and receiving, their rolling doors all closed tight. It wasn’t until he tried a steel security door half way down the building did he finally catch a break. The door itself was locked, but thankfully hadn’t been pulled closed far enough for it to latch.
"I'll stay out here and keep a lookout," said Magnon. I won't be any good to you inside."
Stirling nodded his agreement and went to work on the door. It was jammed with grit and it took some effort before it reluctantly began to grind open. He winced at the sound of metal scraping on cement, took one last quick look around and entered.
Inside was a darkened office with a wooden desk pushed into one corner with old boxes stacked on top. A dusty Rolodex sat mildewing in the corner. Judging from the Swimsuit calendar still tacked to the wall, it looked like the place hadn’t been used since the mid-eighties.
A door with only a hole where the knob should be was slightly ajar at the far side of the room. Stirling made his way to it as quietly as he could. Outside the door was what looked to be an old lunch room. It was lit by a bank of humming fluorescent tubes, flaking butter-cream coloured paint scabbed off the walls and a mop handle angled out of a long disused stainless steel sink. Another door led out on the far side of the room.
And there were the ghosts.
Though the room wasn’t large, it was packed with at least a dozen of them. The ghosts were dressed in clothing that appeared to be chosen randomly from fashions of the last half century. There were bell-bottoms, butterfly collars and gold chains. There were thick glasses and shaker knit sweaters from the 80s and even some flannel from the 90s. Regardless of their clothing, they were all agitated, and their echoey voices made goosebumps spontaneously erupt on his forearms.
One of them, a man wearing polyester slacks and a sports jacket with leather elbow patches, looked over to where Stirling stood. “Hey who’s the new guy?” he said jabbing a thumb in Stirling’s direction. “He looks like he got run over by a steam roller.”
“Says the extra from the Brady Bunch,” Stirling shot back. “I’ll heal, you’re stuck wearing that outfit.”
“Holy shit, can you see us?”
“Yeah, see, hear, touch and sometimes smell. You guys are a veritable feast for the senses.”
The ghost strode toward him, his face alight, holding out a hand for Stirling to shake. That was a first. Ghosts usually just swore at him.
“Lloyd Michaels, good to meet you!”
Stirling held up his hands and backed up a few paces. “Woah there, buckaroo. I don’t think you’ll be wanting to do that. Necromancer here, your kind have a habit of exploding when they touch me.”
The ghost pulled up short, a look of horror on his face.
“That’s better. I’d love to chat, but a friend of mine was taken here and I’d like to make sure she’s alright.”
Despite his obvious fear, Lloyd let out a quick laugh. “Nobody who comes here’s alright.”
“No shit. You’re all ghosts.”
Lloyd looked around the room as though he was hoping someone would step in. “Um, no. We’re not ghosts.”
“Fuck off. You float around, walk through walls and don’t have bodies. If that’s not a ghost, I don’t know what is.”
“We still have bodies, we just can’t use them. We’re souls.”
Stirling looked around the room. “I don’t see any bodies around here, Lloyd.”
“They’re in the warehouse,” he said pointing at the doorway on the far wall. “We’re Gin.” He looked at Stirling expectantly.
“You say that like it should mean something to me.”
“You know, Gin.” He waited again for some sign of recognition.
Stirling shook his head. “Nope.”
“Suspended animation?”
“I’m a bit new to all of this, Lloyd.”
“Oh. Well, being a gin means you magically preserved. Some of us came here because we were sick and needed a few more years for medicine to come up with a cure for what we had. Other folks were taken from our homes or just grabbed off the streets.”
“Let me guess. Grabbed by a big guy? Skinny blonde lady?”
“Madame Rag and Mister Bone,” Lloyd whispered.
“No one can hear you but me, Lloyd, no need to whisper.” He casually looked over his shoulder just to make sure no one had come in behind him. “That said, you wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”
“If you’d seen the things they’ve done you’d whisper too. They aren’t people, they’re monsters.”
“Yeah, they’re badass alright, but are they here?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them since they got back a half hour ago.”
“Any chance any of you fine folk could find out for me?” he asked addressing the room. The ghosts had gathered in a loose circle to listen to the conversation. “I’d be a lot happier with a snatch and grab than I would with a stand-up fight.”
The spirits exchanged glances, shrugged, and a good half of them disappeared through the back wall.
Stirling turned back to address Lloyd. “So, have you seen her, Lloyd? Blue hair, lots of eye makeup, looks kinda like a vampire cheerleader?”
Lloyd looked at the floor. “Oh, yeah, I seen her.”
“Your tone isn’t filling me with confidence, Lloyd.”
“They got to her.”
“What does that mean?”
“Gimme a sec.” With that, he turned and walked through the back wall. None of the other ghosts, spirits, or whatever they were, in the room would meet his eyes. That just couldn’t be good.
After a few minutes, Lloyd appeared back through the wall. He wasn’t alone. Accompanying him as he passed through the wall was Rebbecca.
No comments:
Post a Comment