Ghost Reaper Episode 2 (3 page)

"Yeah...I
think you'd like her...she is so beautiful, I never did figure out
what she saw in me. My face looks like somebody set it on fire and
put it out with an ax, hair is thin. Got a big gut, never was much of
a ladies' man."

"Come
on Bill...she remembers you like you were when you two fell for each
other."

Bill
stopped walking and turned to face him. "I look the same...just
older."

Chad
couldn't believe he'd done it again, was it possible to fit two feet
in one's mouth?

What
the heck, might as well go for three.

"You're
a big dude...what...6'4''... and you got that
John
Wayne
swagger.
You're ruggedly handsome. I'll bet you were captain of your football
team.

Bill
smiled. "Junior and senior year."

Chad
raised his arms in victory. "See."

They
turned and continued to walk. The gravel road curved and headed
westward.

"What
about you?" Bill asked. "You look like you could be one of
those chipmunk dancers."

"Hey...I'm
six feet tall. Chipmunk?"

"You
know...one of them guys that get to have women stick money in their
shorts."

"You
mean Chippendale dancers."

Bill
nodded, grinning from ear to ear. Damn, Chad thought, he got me
again.

"You
know, I'm thinking
John
Wayne
is
wrong.
You remind me more of that guy in that sitcom...can't think of him or
the show's name. Just remember he and a neighbor liked going to
Hooters."

"Umm,
don't think I've seen that one," Bill answered... "but
don't change the subject. You got a girl?"

"Yeah...gorgeous...and
smart. Last time we were together we fought. Boy, if I could take it
back."

Bill
stopped in his tracks. "You think I look like
Al..."

A
whispered phrase cut through the air like a gunshot.

"Hey...over
here."

Both
men turned towards the hoarse voice. There was a figure standing in
the doorway of one of the buildings. He was motioning them towards
him.

They
looked at one another, eyebrows arched. Chad spoke first. "He
can see us."

"No
shit, Sherlock," Bill answered.

With
a bit of trepidation Chad and Bill approached the man. He was average
height, on the skinny side, with long stringy, dirty gray hair. You
would be hard pressed to find a spot on his clothes that didn't own a
stain.

He
smiled at them as they neared. A near toothless smile, greenish
yellow teeth. Chad could see now that his lips were cracked and
crusted.

"You're
a ghost," Chad blurted out.

"Nothin'
like being subtle," Bill added.

"Yep...I'm
a ghost," the specter answered. You guys startin' to fade yet?"

Right
to the point, Chad thought. The fellow's eyes were the blackest he'd
ever seen.

"Fading."
Chad's response was suppose to be a question; didn't really come out
that way.

"Yep...I
can see you are...come on in here...I can fix that."

He
headed into the building, waving for them to follow. They did, sort
of like men being led to the gallows.

Inside
the barn-like building were pigeons, roosting and cooing. The sound
was ominous. The freaky guy looked up, the birds were defecating as
well. One got him right in the mouth. The creep licked his lips and
smacked.

"Only
one way to stop the vanishing...one way." he said.

Bill
had positioned himself slightly behind and to the right of the man.

"How's
that?" the big man asked.

The
man cackled, Chad could smell him: combination of rotten eggs and
dead animal.
Should
ghost stink?

"You
have to take the energy from a spirit, or kill someone and take it
after their death."

The
creature leaped at him, clutched his head with both hands, and Chad
knew —felt — sensed his soul being devoured. A blinding halo
enveloped them. Chadwick Alan Dowdry watched his essence steal into
this abomination. The man's face was even grayer, sicklier, more evil
than before.

Then
the monster's head divided right down the middle. An axe wedged at
the bottom of his neck. Chad fell back, swooning near
unconsciousness. Bill stood behind the man, his hands still gripping
the implement.

Then
pain, blinding pain. Chad caught his breath and could not release it.
Eyes wide he looked to Bill. His friend had released the axe. He was
staring at him in horror.

“
My
god...your bleeding,” he uttered. “And look at your leg.” Chad
looked. A shard of bone had ripped through his jeans at his right
shin. His shirt was matted with blood which was oozing from his
abdomen. He couldn’t breath. He was dying, and this time he was
feeling it.

“
Bill...”
he rasped between ragged breaths. “Go...go see your wife...I’m
not going to make it.”

“
I
can’t...I can’t leave you like this.”

“
Listen
to me, you
Al-Bundy-
looking
son of a bitch. I got that devil’s spirit, I’m in the flesh...I
feel
it.
These are the wounds from my accident. I’m going die right this
time, no ghost stuff. Go see your freaking wife...Please.”

The
room was spinning, Bill got off of his knees, his mouth was open, and
for a moment Chad could have sworn he saw a tear.

Ghost
don’t cry.

Darkness
enveloped him.

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

Drew Adams has
been writing suspense thrillers with paranormal edges in some form
since childhood. A variety of careers from driving 18 wheelers across
America to 12 years patrolling the corridors of Texas prisons
tempered by his current profession taking care of the ill as a
registered nurse leads him to his latest frontier: Storytelling. He
lives in Texas with Trina, his wife of 42 years and his dog Petey.

Visit
the author online on his website at
www.drewadamsauthor.com
.
F
ollow
him on Twitter
@drewadamsauthor
and on
https://www.facebook.com/drewadamsauthor
.