The Forgotten (18 page)

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Authors: Tamara Thorne

Tags: #Horror

BOOK: The Forgotten
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48
“
Ghostbusters,
” Will said, hearing the movie's theme playing as he entered Gabe and Kevin's house. “I thought I was here for dinner.”
“Of course you are,” said Gabe, holding the door. “Kevin thought you'd enjoy the irony when he saw that the movie was playing on cable. “Hi Maggie.”
“Hi, Gabe.” Maggie trotted up the walk and entered, paused, and said, “I ain't afraid of no ghosts,” along with the music.
Will chastely kissed her cheek hello. “I think we're here to be slimed.”
“We wouldn't do that to you guys,” Gabe said. “But Kevin did make green Jell-O. Come on in. Kevin's in the kitchen.”
All three went directly into the kitchen. Even though Kevin had only been home an hour, he was deep into dinner. “It smells wonderful,” Maggie said. “What are you making?”
“It's no biggie,” Kevin said, stirring a big pot on the stove. “Just spaghetti and salad, but thank you.”
“You made sauce in an hour?” Will stepped up to a covered pot and lifted the lid half an inch. “Ah. I'm officially starving.”
“After working like a slave all day for you, you think I made this from scratch? That takes hours, Will. It's bottled sauce, but it was eight bucks a bottle, so it should be almost as good as mine.”
“What? You're kidding. Eight dollars? What was it, a gallon bottle?”
“Please. Eight dollars a quart. It's new. Imported from
Patsy's
in New York.”
“Patsy's?” Maggie said. “That sounds Irish.”
Kevin turned toward them, exposing his Kiss the Cook apron and rolling his eyes. “That would be Paddy's.”
“Gotcha.”
Gabe tried to poke Maggie in the ribs, but she backed up into Will, who poked her for Gabe.
“You people,” Kevin said imperiously. “Out of my kitchen with your childish behavior. I've made a pitcher of raspberry margaritas to keep you amused. Gabe, take them into the haunted room and get them a little sloshed. Pour one for me before you go.”
Gabe grabbed the pitcher, filled a glass for Kevin, then led Will and Maggie, who carried three more wide-mouthed stems, back out through the hall and into the living room, which looked utterly normal.
“Why did we go the long way?” Maggie asked.
“So you noticed the pocket door into the dining room was closed?” Gabe asked as he filled glasses.
“Yeah.”
“Kevin didn't want to take a chance on seeing any ghosts while he's cooking. Can't say that I blame him. Sit.”
He took a chair, leaving Will and Maggie together on the couch. “You're serious?” Will asked. “About why the door is closed?”
“Yep. You want me to turn that off?” He nodded at the TV, where the ghostly librarian was wreaking havoc.
“I don't care,” Will said.
“Just turn the sound down a little,” Maggie said. “I love this stupid movie. And this margarita.”
“It packs a wallop,” Gabe told her. “Go easy. He's got a couple different tequilas in there.”
“So,” Will began, half-smiling. “We get tipsy and the ghost will appear?”
“If
they
appear, they will whether you're tipsy or not.”
“They?”
“We saw Jason Cockburn this morning.”
“Who?”
“Carrie Cockburn's husband. Our ghosts.”
“We haven't had a chance to talk,” Will said. “It's not just Kevin? You see this stuff too?”
“Yeah. Plain as day.”
“I didn't figure you for believing in ghosts, Gabe.”
“Will, I don't know that I do. But I sure as hell saw something. Twice. Kev and I were together both times.” He rumbled a short laugh. “Of course, I don't think either one of us has been in here alone since the first time.”
“All clear?” Kevin called from the kitchen.
“All clear,” Gabe confirmed.
The pocket door opened and Kevin appeared, carrying plates. “Excuse me.” Gabe got up to help.
Will looked at Maggie. “What happened with the seals?”
“I talked to Lily, the marine biologist who headed the rescue team. She says the animals perked right up once they were in the observation area.”
“Where's that?”
“A private aquarium and research center down the coast. She thinks they'll release them within seventy-two hours. I talked to her about the birds and fish. She doesn't know what would cause a disruption, but she thinks, at this point, that's probably what happened.”
“A disruption—”
“In the animals' senses, especially directional. If we have subs nearby, they're likely culprits.”
“Even for the birds?”
“Helicopters with disruptive equipment, maybe. Did Kevin find out anything about that or the geological anomalies?”
“Yes. No quakes out to sea or elsewhere that should have any impact. Nothing in the air either, at least anything natural. We don't know about the military. The more he dug, the more confusing it became. He tried phoning the nearest base and asking about helicopters and so forth, but they denied doing anything that could affect animals.”
“Of course they did. They're not going to admit to messing with the wildlife any more than they're going to admit to the existence of U.F.O.s.”
“Maggie. U.F.O.s?” Will shook his head. “Not you too? ”
“Unidentified flying objects, Will,” she said sternly. “Not flying saucers. Just things without a known explanation.”
“I think the military is responsible for most U.F.O.s,” Will said. “That's why they deny knowledge.”
“Or to save face,” Maggie argued. “Keep your mind open, Will.”
“I saw a U.F.O.,” Kevin said from the dining room. “Come on you two. Dinner's ready.”
The table was beautifully set, with small summer gardenias and tea lights floating in a low, cobalt glass bowl as a centerpiece. Everyone sat down.
“White or red?” Gabe asked, getting ready to open the wine.
“I shouldn't.”
“Me, either,” Maggie agreed. “Not on top of the margarita. ”
“Live a little. Italian food demands wine.”
“One glass,” Will and Maggie said simultaneously.
Kevin and Gabe exchanged glances.
“What?” asked Maggie.
“Nothing,” Kevin said. “But I saw a U.F.O. once. It floated overhead like a big Mexican luminaria. Then it just sailed away.”
“Hot-air balloon.” Will and Maggie said it together, then looked at each other and grinned.
“Why aren't you two sleeping together?” Kevin asked after
tsking
at them. “You do everything else together.”
“Mind your own business, Kev,” Gabe said, not bothering to hide his amusement.
“Oh, but look at them, Gabe. They need to get laid.”
“We're not that kind of friends,” Will said.
“That's right,” Maggie echoed. “We're like brother and sister.”
“Not any brother and sister I ever saw,” Kevin goaded. “At least not any normal ones.”
“So where are your ghosts?” Will said abruptly. “Shouldn't they be interrupting dinner about now?” He glanced at Maggie and smiled. “That's when unwanted guests always show up.”
“I thought you didn't believe us, Will.”
“I believe you saw something,” he said, not for the first time.
“Don't let him get under your skin,” Gabe told Will. “He's messing with you. What he wants—as I do—is for you to see it and tell us what it really is. We'd be grateful for a rational explanation.”
“Speaking of not having a rational explanation, let me tell you about what happened on the beach today,” Maggie said. Between bites, she launched into the story of the half moon beach.
49
“Eat your peas, Daniel.” Lobelia Hatch stared hard at her son, who sat across the kitchen table.
“Mother, I don't like canned peas. I never have, and you know that.”
“They're good for you. Eat them.”
Shove the can down her throat.
Since walking next door for dinner, Daniel's penis had been getting more and more irritated at Lobelia, urging him to “take care of her.” He wasn't positive what that might mean, but had a suspicion that it meant the worst.
Be quiet,
he thought at his dick. “Mother, I'm thirty-four years old. Please don't order me to eat something I detest. Why didn't you make frozen peas instead? I like those.”
“I slave over a hot dinner for you, and this is how you repay me, Daniel?”
Fuck her right up the old poop shoot. That'll shut her up.
“Be quiet.”
“What?” roared Lobelia.
“I wasn't talking to you, Mother.”
“Well, I don't see anyone else here, do you?”
“No, Mother. I was talking to myself.”
“Oh. Then why did you tell yourself to be quiet? Were you thinking something rude?”
“No.” He hesitated. “Yes, Mother, I was.”
“What? What were you thinking?”
That you're going to fuck her up the ass.
“No,” murmured Daniel.
“No, what?”
Shut up,
he thought at his dick. “No, Mother.”
“No, Mother, what?” She was getting loud again.
“I don't remember what we were talking about,” he lied. “How was your day?”
She looked a little taken aback, then sighed. “How was my day, you ask? Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, Mother.” Boy, she was bitchy today. She was never a gem to deal with, but the last week or two, she had been much worse. “How was your day?”
“You don't really want to know.”
“Of course I do.”
“It was horrible. Mrs. Lavia next door screamed all morning.”
“Why?”
“You think I know why? I could care less.”
She can't even speak properly,
his penis whined.
Get rid of her!
“It's not like Mrs. Lavia screams on a regular basis, Mother. Maybe I should go knock on her door and make sure she's all right.”
Mother sniffed. “I hope she's dead, frankly. Don't go over there. Let nature take its course.”
“Mother, what if she's hurt? What if someone broke in and hurt her? What if she's dying?”
“Let the postman find her when she starts stinking.”
“That's not nice, Mother.” Daniel put down his napkin and rose from the table.
Atta boy, Daniel.
“Daniel!” Lobelia spat out the word. “You sit down, right this minute.”
“No.”
He pushed his chair in and went to the front door, ignoring his mother's threats. He felt six feet tall instead of a mere five foot six as he left the house and walked next door to the little stucco house belonging to Minnie Lavia. The porch light was off. He knocked, but there was no reply.
Steeling himself, he walked to the back door and knocked some more. Still no answer, but he could see a light on deep inside, and the car was in the driveway. He opened the gate to the backyard and went to a window where a light glowed. There were miniblinds covering the window, but they weren't shut tight. He put his face to the screen and peered in.
Mrs. Lavia sat in a rocking chair by her bed. Next to her was a perch for her parrot, Thoreau. Thoreau wasn't on the perch though, he was on Mrs. Lavia's shoulder, his body angled so that he could reach her face. Daniel knew she liked to feed him peanuts from her mouth. She'd hold them between her teeth and he'd snatch them. It looked like that was what they were doing. Tentatively, Daniel rapped on the window. “Mrs. Lavia?”
Thoreau turned to look at him, a big shiny eyeball hanging from his mouth. Daniel fainted.
50
“William,” said Gabe. “William is your real first name?”
“Nope.” Will sipped his wine.
“Wilson,” tried Kevin. “Wilmer.”
“No and no.”
“Willem?” Kevin persisted.
“No.”
“It must be something awful. Is it awful?”
“I don't think so. Do you think so, Mags?”
“No, I think it's a fine name.”
“You know, Maggie?” Kevin asked. “What is it?”
“I'm sworn to secrecy.”
“Then it's awful,” Gabe decided. “If he swore your silence, then, I'm guessing it's Wilbur.”
Maggie giggled.
“Willllburrrr,” Kevin intoned in Mr. Ed's voice. “What're you doin' back there, Willllburrrr?”
“It's not Wilbur.”
“Wilberforce.” Gabe again.
“I love that,” Maggie said. “Don't you, Will?”
“It's a name that forces a person to smile, though he doesn't know why. But no, it's not my name.”
Kevin scrinched up his face, making a rat face. “Willard. That's it. No wonder you won't tell. Named for a rat.”
“Sorry.”
“Wilhelm,” Gabe said. “That's my final guess.”
“That's it,” Maggie said solemnly.
“I'm afraid so,” Will agreed.
“Oh. My. God.” Kevin's eyes widened. “They named you Wilhelm? What's your middle name?”
“Wilhelm.”
“You're real name is Wilhelm Wilhelm Banning?” Kevin asked excitedly. He'd gone a little heavy on the wine.
“Actually, I was adopted. My real last name is also Wilhelm. I'm Wilhelm Wilhelm Wilhelm. So where are the ghosts? I have to go home soon.”
“Forget the ghosts. Are you
really
named Wilhelm Wilhelm Wilhelm? Really? That's so cool!”
“Kevin, he's messing with your mind,” said Gabe.
“He wouldn't do that. He's a psychologist.”
“Which means messing with your mind is my lifework.” Will pushed back from the table. “None of my names are Wilhelm, Kev.”
“Not even one?”
“Nope.”
“Why won't you tell us your name? You told Maggie.” Kevin poured himself the last of the red wine.
“You're whining,” Gabe said. “If he doesn't want to tell us, it's his prerogative.”
“Why not? Gabriel Hannibal Rawlins? Doesn't it bother you that you're entirely outed, and we don't know Will's whole first name, let alone his middle one?”
“Will's out. He's openly heterosexual.” Gabe grinned.
“That's not what I meant and you know it.” He looked at Will and Maggie. “What if I tell you my whole name?”
“Go ahead,” Will said.
“Not so fast.” Kevin finished the wine. “Any chardonnay left?”
“You don't need more wine,” Gabe said. “You'll have a hangover in the morning.”
Kevin sniffed. “You're right. I hate headaches. Maggie, what's your whole name? I'll say mine if you say yours.”
“I thought it was
my
name you were after,” Will said, smiling. He had a slight buzz going himself.
“If we tell, then you have to, too.” He giggled in a way that made Will wonder if he'd get to work on time in the morning.
“And, if you jump off a cliff, I will, too?”
“Oh, your mother said that, too?” He giggled again.
“Kevin, everybody's mother said that,” Gabe told him.
“Okay, well, my full name is Kevin Damien Bass.”
“I knew you were in league with the devil.” Maggie laughed.
“What's your name, Maggie?” Kevin, though a lit tle cross-eyed now, gazed intently at her.
“Shall I tell him, Will?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Margaret—and don't you ever call me that or you'll rue the day you were born, Kevin—Margaret Louise Maewood.”
“I like that. It's so old-fashioned and sweet. Can I call you Maggie Lou?” Kevin dimpled up.
“No.”
“Okay.” He turned his attention to Will. “Spill it, Wilbur.”
“I'll give you a clue. My mother loved the movie
High Noon.
I'm named after Gary Cooper's character.”
“Will, darling, I'm gay. I don't watch westerns.”
“I do,” Gabe said. “Cooper was the sheriff who saved the town.” He looked at Kevin. “You've never seen it? Really?”
“I like
Wild Wild West
reruns. Well, I like Jim West's pants. And vests.” He giggled some more.
“Kevin, if you want to drink as much as I do, you need to gain fifty pounds,” Gabe said before returning his attention to Will. “Cooper's character was, uh, Miller?”
“No, that was the chief bad guy. Frank Miller.”
“Will Kane.” Gabe grinned triumphantly.
“Give that man a cigar.” Will grinned back.
“Well, so, what was Will Kane's full name?” Kevin asked. “William, Wilbur, Wil—”
“No! Don't do it again!” Will laughed. “The character's name was ‘Will.' My name, therefore, is Will.”
“Just Will?”
“Yes. You look disappointed.”
“It's like you got cheated out of some syllables. I feel sorry for you. You're a name amputee.”
Will cracked up. “It's okay, Kevin. I've learned to live with it. I even like it.”
“Really?” Kevin sounded amazed, but his eyes twinkled with merriment.
“Yes. I—What's wrong?”
Kevin's animated face had gone slack and now his color drained away. He swallowed and nodded toward the living room.
Will looked. They all did. Floating slightly above the floor, the specter of Carrie Cockburn held a gun. The yellow dress was coated down the middle with scarlet gore, and her head, what there was of it, was just as Kevin had described.
Will's stomach tumbled, but he forced himself to stand up and approach the figure. His head swam as he circled the specter, thinking it was probably a hologram. What else could it be? Someone was playing a trick on Gabe and Kevin. A horrible trick. He forced himself to look directly at the head with its hanging jaw and skull shards and blood and brains.
A similar vision reeled through his mind. A memory. His ears started ringing, louder and louder.
Michael! I killed you.
Then black mist swirled into his vision and the world went away.

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