Ghost Program (5 page)

   “He wears a black speedo under his coat,” I said.

   “How’d you know that?”

   “He showed it to me.”

   “He showed this to you.”

   “Of course he did.  Do you think I just made that up?”

   “He was just in the bathroom?  Nowhere else in the house?”

   “Yes.”

   “I should look around, maybe he left some prints...or a bit of hair?  It’s a small town here, limited resources and all that rot; it’s the best I can do for now.”

   What was I expecting, a whole crime lab to show up at my house?

   “Brent can show you the way to the bathroom,” I said.

   “If you came to the station, we could do a sketch of what he looks like.”

   “I don’t feel well.”  I pointed to my bruised neck.

   “We could do it later,” he said.

  
Or not at all
, I thought.

   The fat cop left my room with Brent.  They were probably in the bathroom about ten minutes, then I heard the old man’s voice.

   “I’ll call you if anything turns up, right?  It’s a shame there were no prints, but I suspect the surfaces were too moist.  I took several DNA swabs off of the shower curtain and window.  It’s hard to be anywhere without leaving
some
trace of yourself behind.  In the meantime, I’d just be careful to remember about locking the doors and windows.” 

   Footsteps resounded on the stairs.

   I heard the front door open and close, then mom’s confused and loud rambling.

  
Shit.

   She’d obviously come home and seen the police car.

❃
CHAPTER 5
❃

  
“
D
amn, the cat’s out of the bag,” I said. 

   I stumbled out of bed and staggered across the room to my closet floor where I had stashed a previously opened bottle of wine.  I knelt and uncorked the bottle, taking several long swallows of the rich liquid.  And that’s when mom and Brent walked in.  I pulled the lip of the bottle out of my mouth and set the wine on the floor, then looked at them.  Brent was smiling, but mom looked worried, or at least as worried as a person who has used Botox to get rid of all their worry lines could look.

   “Someone broke into my house?” she said.  She wore a loose knit sweater and denim mini skirt, and accenting her ponytail, her bangs were hair-sprayed into an impressive hair sculpture.

   Brent just shrugged and looked at me.

   Behind me someone coughed. 

   Gregg was rocking back and forth in a rocking chair in the corner of my bedroom.  I never owned any rocking chair.

   I took another swig of the dry wine, then said, “Yes.”

   “Well?!” she said.  “What happened?”  She didn’t see Gregg.

   “Someone broke into the bathroom, but I must’ve...scared him off.  He climbed out the window before the police got here.”

   “That’s strange,” she said, attempting to knit her eyebrows but failing miserably.  She pursed her inflated lips together and sighed, probably because it looked better to do something with her face than nothing.  “Well, at least he left.  He didn’t take anything, did he?”  When she said
Well
, it sounded more like
weh-ell
.  I wondered if that was from her lip implants, and then I wondered if people with naturally fat lips talked funny, too.

   “No,” I said.  “I don’t think he had time.  Must’ve thought the house was empty.”

   Mom walked over to where I was kneeling.  Lucky for me, she didn’t notice the blood on my hair.  That would have required a great deal more explanation than the pat story I had fed her.  She grabbed the wine bottle off the floor and took a few swallows then left the room with it.  I vowed to raid the pantry of another bottle before the night was over.  If I lost my fix, I’d never sleep again.  Not with that smirking black-haired devil haunting my dreams.

   “You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed,” said Gregg softly from his rocker. 

   “Are you drinking wine again?” asked Brent.

   “Are you going to introduce me?” asked Gregg.

   “This is Brent,” I said.  I stood up and stumbled to my bed, sitting on the mattress, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.

   “Who are you talking to?” asked Brent.

   “No one,” I said.

   “It sounded like you said,
This is Brent
.”

   “No,” I replied.  “I said,
There’s Brent
.  Like you finally made it upstairs.  Thank goodness.”

   “Oh,” he said, briefly appearing confused.

   Brent helped me get comfortable on my bed, then he grabbed me by both of my arms and pulled me against him, mashing his lips against mine.  He slid his hand up my shirt and grabbed my breast, squeezing it roughly.  I moaned.  I’d never let anyone get even that far with me, not because I didn’t enjoy this type of hedonistic diversion, but I fully planned on living my life single, as an individual of freedom and independence, untethered to another’s demands.  For now, my ordinary reservations towards intimacy felt muted and unimportant.  I didn’t want Brent to leave; thoughts of his eventual absence filled me with dread. 

   But Gregg was watching.  I pulled away and managed to say, “Brent, we’re not alone.”

   “Shh,” he said.

   I squirmed away from him, then saw Gregg smiling from his rocker in the corner.

   “Don’t stop on my account,” Gregg said, a little too smoothly.

   “Holy shit,
who is that
!” said Brent.

   “I tried to tell you,” I said.  “That’s Gregg.  But did you just hear him or can you see him too?”

   “I see him alright!” exclaimed Brent.  “But it just can’t be!”

   “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Gregg, not bothering to stand up, complacently puffing on a pipe as its fragrant fumes wafted over the room.  “I don’t blame you.  She’s lovely.”

   Brent quickly straightened, and I snuck glances at the two of them.

   “You...you....weren’t there a minute ago,” stammered Brent.

   “Yes, I was,” said Gregg, taking a hand and flipping his ghostly hair away from his eye.  It instantly fell back in place.  “I’m just disappointed you stopped the show.”  Now he was laughing, bending over when he could not longer control it.

   “How long were you there?” Brent had turned red in the face.

   “My name is Gregg.  I live here.  Sam isn’t my sister, but maybe sometimes I pretend she is.  You know, I never had any real siblings.  Mother and father only had one child.  So you see, I
need
to pretend.  And she’s everything I ever wanted....full of sublime beauty, intelligent, and morally wholesome.  But I don’t think
we’
ve been appropriately introduced.”

  
“I’m Brent,” he managed to squeak out.

   Gregg set down his pipe on the windowsill, then stood and walked towards him, shaking his hand and smiling grandly as if making the acquaintance of royalty.  “I’m sure all the pleasure is mine,” he said.  “But Brent, Sam
is
in some danger.  She is being hunted, I think, by a most loathsome beast.”

   “So I heard,” Brent replied quietly.  Brent looked at me, trying to make sense of an illogical situation.  I was just glad we could both speak to Gregg, and I felt a close connection to Brent because of it.

   “I saw him, you know,” said Gregg.  “Sam was attacked in the bathtub by some unholy degenerate, but I hope he’ll not dare to set foot here, again.  Of course, of that I couldn’t be too sure.  Mother and father have a summer cabin, but I can’t seem to find either one of them, and when I’ve looked for my horse, well, that seems to be gone as well.  I could tell you where the cabin is, though.”  Gregg paced around, trying to appear helpful and concerned.

   Brent’s previously ruddy cheeks now looked pale.  He sat on my bed, placing his face in the palms of his hands.

   “Oh God.  This isn’t happening,” he whispered.  His feelings reflected mine the first time I’d seen Gregg.

   “Well, why would
He
come back?” I said.  “As far as I know,
He
may have moved on, found some other women to bother.”

   Brent appeared to be trying to regain his composure by panting into his hands.  Supernatural experiences do that to people.

   “That’s all very true,” said Gregg.  “But there is something I need to explain fully.  I sensed something from
Him
; in a way, I feel that I have read
His
thoughts. 
He
doesn’t just want anyone, Sam, for some reason
He
came for you specifically.  I felt
Him
and understood
Him
as sure I as stand here in front of you today. 
He
wants you dead, and
He
won’t rest until his accomplishes his evil endeavor.”

   “Why would anyone want me dead?”  I asked in a sad voice.  But in a way, I knew why.  It was because I could
see
Him
when no one else could.  It was like that time I was nice to the fat kid in school, and then he wouldn’t stop following me around, trying to talk to me.  I’d been singled out because I could communicate with
them
, and now I was going to pay for my ability.  And if they could get to me, they could get to Brent as well.

   “When does your quarter end at school, Sam?” asked Brent dully.

   “I’ve got two more weeks.”

   “And then you transfer to the university?”

   “Yes.”

   “Finish out your courses, and you can stay in my apartment in Seattle.  It’s only a studio, and there’s not much room.....but you wouldn’t have to risk living here any longer.”  He still had a stunned look on his face.

   “Grand!” shouted Gregg.  “Send her away, and maybe the creep will not follow!  I couldn’t have come up with a better plan.”

   “Why does
He
want me?  Why come to
my
house?” I asked.

   Brent replied.  “You remember the story of Pandora’s box?  Maybe you learned it in school.”

   “Sure.”

   “I think your Casper software is precisely that.  You opened a gateway that was meant to remain closed.  Perhaps you should stay away from it from now on.”

   “I can’t stay away from it.  It’s my final computer programming project.”

   Brent sighed.  “I can’t
make
you do anything.  But I think you may have invited the devil into your home.”

   I began to cry.  I’d done a lot of that lately.  “You can’t say that.  You don’t know how long I spent creating it.  I was going to open a business with that program.  Maybe, I don’t know, help people connect with long dead relatives.  You can’t possibly be telling me to just forget about it.”

   Gregg sat down next to me while I sniveled, looking at Brent accusingly.  “You’re upsetting her.  I wish you wouldn’t upset her so.  Isn’t nice.”  Gregg put his arm around my shoulder.  I shivered.  His touch felt like ice.

   Brent looked a little peeved.  “I’m sorry, Sam.  I-I hadn’t meant for you to take it the wrong way.  It looks like the rain’s stopped a little.  Do you want to go for a drive, maybe get some pizza?”  Then his face twisted into an odd expression.  “Do
you
like pizza, Gregg?”

   “I’ve got to stay home and wait on mother.  I usually dine with her,” said Gregg.  Did Gregg really have a mother?  I’d never seen her and wondered if she was in the house.

   “Okay, you heard him,” said Brent.  “Are you still dizzy?  Can you walk?”

   I stood up and stumbled a little, then steadied myself on the wall.

   “It’s okay,” said Brent.  “Grab onto my arm if you feel you’re going to fall.  I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get out of your house.  It gives me the creeps.”  His voice had taken on a plaintive, whiny quality.  “I’m sorry you’re feeling out of sorts, but I
really
need a change of scene.”  For a brief moment, Brent looked frightened and child-like. 

   “I’m okay,” I said.  “Can you grab my jacket off the door?” 

   “Oh sure, yeah.”  He wrapped the windbreaker around my shoulders and grabbed his jacket off the chair.  I pushed my arms into the sleeves.

   I grasped Brent tightly as we walked slowly downstairs.  Mom must have been in the den.  I didn’t see her.  If I left now, I could avoid being asked a lot of questions by my father.  He was probably stuck in traffic trying to get home.  I felt like throwing up, but I wouldn’t let Brent know that as I wanted to be out of that house as much as he did.

   My head was spinning as we stepped outside, and for a minute, I saw two of everything.  A cool mist fell across my shoulders and hair.  The downpour, at least for now, had abated and been replaced by a slow falling drizzle.  The wind, however, seemed to be increasing in intensity, and it began to make a howling noise as it swept over the roof of the house.  We walked to Brent’s car which was parked in the driveway.  He hit the automatic unlock, and I opened the passenger door.  He slipped the key in the ignition and revved the engine, then we backed out of the driveway.  We’d need to turn down a few side streets to get to the main highway which led to town.  Brent maneuvered his small car expertly, and we soon hit the main road.  Washington doesn’t have very good roads, and our local two-lane route had often been called
“the highway of death”
by news reporters and locals alike.  As we sped down the road, I saw at least a dozen homemade crosses marking spots where people had died. 

   “I’d thought the lightning was done for today, but I’ll tell you something,” said Brent.  “It’s getting dark all of a sudden, and I don’t like the look of those clouds up ahead.”

   “It’s gloomy,” I replied.  “It makes me feel like...well, I don’t know, but I meant to say that I know what you mean.”

   “It’s a storm,” Brent said, his hands tight on the steering wheel, his eyes gazing ahead.  “As if it was sent here just for us, so it could ruin our day.  I’ve got to drive back to Seattle tonight.  I don’t know how I’ll do that if the winds get any stronger.”

   “Is it okay?” I asked.

   “Okay?”

   “I mean, you looked kind of uncomfortable in my room.  What, with
Gregg
, and all.  I can’t always see him, but I think he’s always there.”