Stalking Shadows (Scary Mary) (14 page)

“Well, what did you find out?”

She dropped into a chair and set Chowder down. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“I can see that you’re fine. What did you find out?”

She was too tired to argue or get upset. She just wanted to get some shut-eye.

“It went to the basement. It tried to come after me.”

“What else?”

She let her head roll back and stared at the ceiling. “He can see ghosts, and ghosts can see him. They don’t seem to like each other.”

“What else?”

She shrugged.

“I can’t believe this. What were you doing down there?”

She didn’t reply.

Mr. White spoke up. “What did you expect her to find out?”

“How to stop it; if it had an anchor like a ghost; something!”

“Sorry, I couldn’t investigate too much, what with the running and the terror.”

“Unbelievable,” Gran muttered.

Feeling that the interrogation was over, Mary lurched from the chair and went to the closet. She crawled inside and curled up on the floor with her pilfered pillow. She could hear Gran and Mr. White talking, but it didn’t keep her awake.

*    *    *

“You’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?”

Mary looked around the hospital room groggily. She turned to Vicky and groaned. She just wanted to sleep. Not have weird astral projection, mind meld, telepathic whatevers with Vicky.

“God, you look like crap.”

“Good, that’s how I feel.”

“So you went to the basement, the thing chased you to the morgue, and the only way you escaped was by getting a ghost to turn on the lights for you?”

She nodded and then frowned. She was having trouble keeping track of the dream. It felt like she’d been there a while and had obviously told Vicky what happened, but she couldn’t recall it. Could she be too exhausted to dream?

“Mary, stay with me. The solution seems pretty obvious.”

She scrubbed her face in an attempt to wake herself up and then got confused because she was asleep and didn’t want to wake up, not yet, at least. She was too tired to keep anything straight. “What?”

“Get a ghost to fight this shadow thing! You said it didn’t like Chowder, that it could see it and what not. Well, it sounds to me like it was more than annoyed by it. It wouldn’t come into the morgue with all the ghosts in there. I think a ghost could kill it or whatever.”

“But it did try to come into the morgue. I held it off with the flashlight.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t sound like it tried really hard. I bet it was wary of the ghosts.”

Mary shook her head. She wasn’t seeing it.

“Get a full-grown ghost, not some little toy dog, sic it on this thing, and you’ll see.”

“Chowder’s a small terrier, not a toy dog.”

“Focus!”

“Fine, where am I going to get a ghost?”

“Do I have to think of everything? Figure that out yourself.”

“I’ll be so happy when you’re out of this coma.”

“Me too. Now find a ghost, bring it here, and get rid of that thing.”

She rolled her eyes at Vicky’s bossy tone. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, wake up.”

“Oh, come on! Can’t I have some normal sleep for a bit? I’ve been up all night.”

“Nope, you need to wake up.”

Mary let out a groan as she sat up in the closet. Sleeping on the floor in a small, cramped space had not done her any good. She rubbed her eyes and peered between the slats.

Gran was awake with her breakfast in front of her. “Mary, are you up?”

She opened the closet and got up stiffly. She walked slowly to the chair by the bed and sat down. “Would you like some coffee?” Gran asked as she offered her cup.

She took it and drank it down. “Had another chat with Vicky. She thinks a ghost can handle the Shadowman.”

“That the girl in the coma?” Mr. White asked.

She nodded. “It’s a possibility,” Gran murmured.

“Yeah, but where are we going to get a ghost to help us? I doubt any we meet will want to lend a hand.”

“I may know one,” Mr. White offered.

They turned to stare at him. “It won’t hurt to ask, at least,” he muttered.

Before Mary could ask for more details, a doctor and Mrs. Pillar came in. The doctor checked Gran’s ankle and chart. He prescribed some pills and told them she could go.

“When you’re ready, come get me, and I’ll give you a ride home,” Mrs. Pillar offered.

“Why thank you, Laura. I’ll send Mary to you within the hour.”

The doctor and Mrs. Pillar left. Mary began packing Gran’s overnight bag. “Who’s this ghost who might help us?” Gran asked.

“A guy by the name of Horace Thistlebottom. I’ve got his anchor back at my shop.”

“Horace Thistlebottom?” Mary couldn’t believe the name.

“I think he changed it professionally, but he’ll love to help you out. He can’t resist a damsel in distress. That’s a personal quote of his.”

“When can we come by to get the anchor?”

“Later today, if you like. I can discharge myself. Give me a call.” Mary wondered what exactly Mr. White was in for. She’d never gotten any clue. She had a sinking suspicion it was just to harass the staff.

“Mary, go get Laura. I’m ready to go,” Gran said.

Mary found Mrs. Pillar at the nurse’s station. They walked back with a wheelchair and a pair of crutches. Mrs. Pillar instructed Gran on the best use of the crutches and told her to stay off her feet as much as possible. She helped Gran into the wheelchair. Mary gathered all the stuff and followed them out.

As she was leaving, she turned back to Mr. White. “Thanks for helping us.”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m not charging you two for any of it. Hang in there, kid.”

She gave him a smile and hurried to catch up with Mrs. Pillar and Gran. The drive back was filled with chitchat as Gran and Mrs. Pillar caught up with each other. She sat in the back seat and kept nodding off.

When they got home, Mrs. Pillar helped her get Gran into the house and onto the sofa. She instructed them again on the meds and let herself out.

Gran lay back on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “I think we both need a nap. Go get some rest, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yell for me if you need anything. Don’t try to get up. If you do, I’ll tell Mrs. Pillar.”

Gran swatted playfully at her. “Get some rest, Mary. You need it.”

She didn’t argue. She felt dead on her feet. She climbed the stairs, toed off her shoes, and fell into bed. She just wanted to sleep for a couple of days and not worry about anything. Not Shadowmen. Not Vicky. Not anything.

Chapter 10

Soliloquies

Mary walked along the neatly trimmed graves carrying a bouquet of dark purple irises. She brought them every time she came. Gran had told her a long time ago that they were her mother’s favorite. Her father didn’t have a favorite flower, but Gran had assured her that he would like them just as much as her mom.

There wasn’t any special reason for today's trip to the cemetery, at least not one Mary knew. Gran would just sometimes decide that they needed to go by. She figured the Shadowman had somehow prompted this visit, but she couldn’t figure out how. She’d thought they would stay home and rest, but Gran had insisted, and Mary couldn’t very well say no. Who said no to going to their parents’ grave? She couldn’t even let herself feel resentful. It was important to remember loved ones, even ones she couldn’t remember very well.

Gran would usually drive her out, spend a few moments with her at the grave tidying it up, and then would leave to wait in the car while she had a private moment. Today Gran couldn’t even leave the car. Mary had never made the trip to the grave by herself. It felt very lonely, not just lonely but solitary, like maybe she was the last person on earth.

It might seem strange, but she’d never heard a ghost in the cemetery. She didn’t know why exactly--like if it were due to the embalming process or something--but the dead didn’t linger here. It was ironic, but also a relief. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if every grave had a ghost attached to it.

She finally came to a stop at her parents’ grave. The tombstone was a double marker in dark granite. Johanna and Henry Hellick, loving parents both killed May 5th, 2000. She lay down the irises and took a seat.

“Hi, Mom and Dad. It’s me, Mary.” She knew it was silly to tell them who it was, but it was how she started every conversation with them since she was little. It was like a ritual now.

She paused a moment as she collected her thoughts. They had died when she was four. A drunk driver had crossed the center line and plowed into them. She’d been in a child's car seat in the back when it’d happened. She remembered them in a vague sort of way. She could recall a sense of love and warmth. Everything else that she knew had been gleaned from Gran and photographs. She didn’t really know them and never would, but she still felt a connection. They were her parents. That meant even dead, they were a part of her life, a part of who she was.

“I’m a junior now in high school. The year has been pretty good so far, I suppose. Rachel’s still my best friend. I’m still making good grades. I got my learner’s permit. Gran’s been trying to get me to drive, but I don’t like it. I’m probably the only teenager in America who isn’t eager to get behind the wheel, but there you go. I know I need to learn, but I'm worried I'll make a mistake or someone else will make a mistake and bam! I'll get over it eventually.

“We got a ghost dog for a pet. His name’s Chowder. He’s pretty great. Don’t tell him or Gran that I said that. His previous owner gave his body to us. She'd taken it to a taxidermist. It's kind of weird having his body. He's a Scottish Terrier. He's pretty cute. Darn, I should've brought him to meet you. Anyway, he helped me get rid of a really nasty ghost a month ago. The ghost was haunting the house of a guy from school. The guy and I were friends, but we sort of aren’t anymore. He doesn’t like any of the paranormal stuff. His brother seems a little cooler about it, which is ironic considering he was possessed.” Her eyes drifted off the tombstone as she thought about that whole debacle. She really didn’t want to rehash it any further. “Anyway, Mr. Landa is still working on making me a nice, well adjusted member of society. I don’t think he’s made much progress.

 “Gran just got out of the hospital. It wasn’t serious, just a sprained ankle, but she put herself there on purpose, which is insane. She wanted to badger an old man for help because we’re trying to stop a Shadowman from hurting patients at the hospital. A girl from school is the one who told me about it, except she’s in a coma, and she told me in a dream. So nothing weird there. I’ve been trying to help her, but it seems pretty hopeless. We don’t know what will get rid of the monster.”

She hung her head. “This thing scares me pretty bad. I don’t know what it is. It isn’t a ghost. Mr. White says it wasn’t ever human. I believe him. It’s an honest-to-God monster.”

She picked at the grass as she struggled to push her fear back. It rose up so easily when thinking about that thing. “We think a ghost might be able to stop it. Mr. White has offered the anchor for one that he thinks will help us. He didn’t tell us much about the ghost except its name: Horace Thistlebottom. With a name like that, I’m not holding out much hope.”

She paused again to think. She really didn’t know why Gran had decided that today would be a good day to go to the cemetery. She looked at the tombstone for a few more moments, tracing the letters etched into it with her eyes. “I wish I were normal. I wish I had a normal life. Like I could sit here and tell you about a new dress, or a party, or something nice, and not about ghosts and Shadowmen. I try to stay strong. I really do, but I wish I didn’t need to.” She looked up at the sky and tracked clouds for a few moments. She turned back to the grave with wet eyes. “You’d probably say I’m doing good and that you’re proud of me, but I wish I were normal, and life were ordinary, and you were alive to tell me everything was going to be okay.” She rubbed her eyes and stood up. “Sorry for getting weepy. I know it doesn’t do much good. See you next time.”

When she slipped into the car, Gran looked at her silently. Mary gave her a small smile but couldn’t think of anything to say. Gran didn’t seem to expect anything. She just reached across and patted her arm. “Let’s go to Ezekiel’s,” she said. Mary nodded and started the car. With Gran’s sprained ankle, she couldn’t drive, which left Mary to chauffeur. This was the biggest bit of fallout from the hospital incident. She checked her mirrors carefully, turned on her blinker (even though they were on an empty lane in the cemetery) and put the car in drive. Actually, driving in the cemetery was the best place for her. She drove everywhere like she was in a funeral procession. Gran said she just needed more practice, but after losing three hubcaps so far, Mary was beginning to wonder.

“You’ll take a right out,” Gran offered.

She nodded and carefully steered down the lane. She was holding the wheel too tightly and watching the road too closely, but she couldn’t help it. She was in a machine of death. She couldn’t help being overly vigilant. She slowly rolled to a stop and checked the street several times. She pulled out and stayed five miles under the speed limit.