Twisted Little Things and Other Stories (36 page)

“If I was a ghost,” I reply, looking down at the stone, “I don't think I'd want to know. I think I'd prefer it if I'd been left to carry on the way I was.”

“Maybe tomorrow night we'll have forgotten again.”

“Maybe.”

“I guess there are no rule books, huh?” she asks. “Man, this is messed up. I thought I was hunting for ghosts down by the towpath. Maybe that's something I used to do when I was alive. And all along, I
was
the ghost. Or one of them, anyway.”

I stare at the gravestone for a moment longer.

“Baxter,” I whisper. “You said my dog was rescued?”

“That's what the book claimed. I mean, it was a long time ago, so I guess he must be dead by now.”

“He would've missed being on the boat,” I mutter. “He loved sitting next to me, watching the world go by, barking at passing ducks. He wouldn't take to life on land very well. He would've missed me.”

“I'm sure he would.”

“But at least it sounds like he was looked after,” I continue, as tears well behind my eyes. “That's the important thing. I more or less lost all contact with my family. They were better off without me, I was never very good with people, I'm sure they were fine. But that little dog... He and I got along so well, he was my constant companion. So long as he was okay, I think I can deal with the rest of it all.”

“Does that mean you finally agree with me?”

I turn to her.

“We're dead,” she adds, before forcing a smile. “And we'd never have realized if we hadn't met each other tonight.”

“I don't know whether to be glad you showed up,” I reply, “or mighty annoyed.”

Her smile grows, and I can see there are tears in her eyes. After a moment, she turns and looks out past the wall, as if she's staring straight into the dark void of night.

“Well this certainly puts a dampener on the evening, doesn't it?” I continue with a sigh. “Of all the things to learn about yourself, I'm not sure -”

“Lights,” she says suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Lights!”

I step over to join her by the wall, and I immediately see what she means. Two torch-beams are cutting through the night, swinging wildly this way and that, and after a moment I realize they're down on the canal's towpath. Before I can say anything, I catch sight of something familiar in one of the beams, and the lights come to a halt. A moment later, I spot two figures clambering on-board.

“My boat,” I whisper, watching as the two torches reflect against the windows. “Who are those people, and what are they doing on my boat?”

Six

Even though I'm dead, I'm still not very fast. As I hurry away from the cemetery and down toward the towpath, Angela is able to get far ahead, and I almost lose sight of her in the darkness. I feel a little out of breath, too, but I force myself to keep going until I reach the bridge and stop for a moment to rest.

I guess even ghosts get tired. Maybe I should have died while I was younger.

Figuring that I should keep going, I set off again, hurrying down the gravel path as the torches continue to cut through the darkness ahead. As I get closer, however, I see that Angela has stopped on the towpath, and she seems to be watching the two intruders. Reaching her, I come to a halt and see that the intruders are still on the boat, and it looks like they're trying to get the door open.

“Hey!” I call out. “That's my -”

“Wait!” Angela hisses, placing a hand on my arm.

“They're trying to break into my goddamn boat!”

“They're
standing
on your boat,” she points out. “How are they doing that, if it's not really there?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, frustrated by her constant attempts to complicate everything. “My boat is as solid as they come!”

“According to the book I had with me,” she replies, “some witnesses reported seeing your boat moving along the canal at night. So maybe somehow you're driving your actual boat, and it's just not always visible?”

“That doesn't make a lick of sense!”

“None of this makes sense,” she point out.

“No kidding,” I mutter, hurrying past her and making my way along the towpath. “Stop!” I yell. “That's private property! You're not allowed to -”

Suddenly I hear a loud banging sound, and I see to my horror that the two intruders have managed to break the lock. They pull the barge's door open and then they shine their lights inside, and I can hear them excitedly talking to one another.

“That's criminal damage!” I hiss, stopping as I get to the side of the boat. “You'll pay for that!”

“I think we found it,” one of them says, ignoring me completely. She ducks down and shines her light into the kitchen area, and I can just about make out her grinning face. “Sorry, Gary, I guess I was completely wrong. I didn't think there was a chance in hell that we'd ever find the damn thing.”

“I told you to have a little faith,” her friend mutters. “Am I or am I not the greatest ghost-hunter in this entire country?”

With that, he slips past her and clambers down the steps into the boat, and she quickly follows.

“Hey!” I yell. “Stop right now! That's my home, you're not allowed to just go storming in like that!”

“They can't hear you,” Angela says, coming up behind me. “Don't you get it? We're ghosts, they don't know we're here. I don't even know how they can be on the boat, but I guess the rules are a little muddied. They're just a pair of ghost-hunters, like I thought I was. But I guess they must be real.”

“This is an outrage!” I hiss, hurrying closer and then climbing onto the boat. “I will not have two strangers rummaging about in
my
boat! I don't care what the hell they think is going on here!” Making my way down the steps, I reach the kitchen just in time to see the two intruders making their way past the bathroom door, still swinging their torches around the boat's dark interior.

Reaching past the window, I flick the switch on the wall and the lights quickly flicker to life.

“Woah!” the girl says, as she and her companion turn and look this way. “How did that happen?”

“I turned the damn things on!” I hiss, stepping toward them. “And now I'm telling you to get the hell off my boat!”

“There's a switch over there,” the guy says, pointing past me, “but... Maybe it's just a bit loose, that's all. It might just randomly turn itself on and off.”

“You don't seriously believe that, do you?” the girl asks, turning to him. “Seriously, Gary?”

“It's not proof of anything,” he replies, lowering his torch and then turning it off. “This hunk of junk looks pretty old, I wouldn't be surprised if everything's kinda screwy.”

“Hunk of junk?” I stammer, taking a step closer to them. “How about you get the hell off my boat, eh? Go on, bugger off!”

Completely ignoring me, they turn and make their way further toward the bow, while excitedly discussing the light switch.

“They can't hear you.”

Turning, I see that Angela is coming down the steps and into the kitchen.

“You're not an idiot,” she continues. “Robert, they can't see or hear us, they're not aware that we're here. To them, this is just an old, abandoned canal boat. They've probably read the same stories that were in that book I had with me. This stretch of the canal must be pretty popular with ghost-hunters, I'm sure there are plenty of stories.” She pauses. “We're probably two of those stories. We're probably what they're looking for.”

“You can't expect me to believe that!” I hiss. “This is my home! None of this makes a lick of sense!”

“I've got to admit,” she replies, “it's taking a while for me to get my head around it.”

Hearing the two idiots still talking excitedly, I turn and look toward the bow of the boat. After a moment, I realize they've made it all the way to my goddamn bedroom, so I hurry after them and see that they're rooting through the drawers of my little dresser.

“That's private property!” I shout. “Get your filthy hands off my stuff right now!”

“So maybe this place just belongs to some random old dude,” the girl says with a grin, holding up some of my socks. “Maybe we're actually just, like, breaking and entering someone's home!”

“No way,” the man replies. “You saw the registration number on the side of the boat, didn't you? This is Robert Ward's boat, there's no doubt about it. It's usually not spotted in this area, but people've seen it over the years on various parts of the canal, so I guess it just keeps moving about. We have to document the shit out of this thing and make sure we've got real proof that people can't ignore.”

He holds up a camera and starts taking photos.

“We should call someone,” the girl mutters, removing a set of papers from her pocket and unfolding them, taking a look at the text. “Can you believe how crazy this is? We came down here to look for the ghost of Amanda Bates, and we ended up finding Robert Ward's goddamn canal boat!”

“This is brilliant,” he replies with a grin.

“You shouldn't laugh about it,” she tells him. “You shouldn't laugh about dark things. It's not right.”

“I have to let the guys know,” the man replies, suddenly hurrying past me as if he hasn't even noticed that I'm here. “I'm going back up to the bridge so I can get some signal!”

“Wait for me!”

Before I can say a word, the girl rushes past too, bumping into the wall as she goes.

“Careful!” I call out, hurrying after her. “This is my home, for God's sake!”

“You have to stay here,” the guy is explaining as I reach them. They're clambering back up onto the rear deck, and Angela is watching from the seat next to the steering arm.

“No way!” the girl hisses. “Are you high?”

“I'll be two minutes, tops!” he continues, jumping off the boat and onto the towpath. “If we both go, the boat won't be here when we get back. You know that's how it works! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Heather!”

“There is no way I'm staying here alone on a haunted boat,” she replies, before following him to the towpath. “Gary, get real for a moment! I'm coming with you!”

“This is why I used to work alone when I was looking for ghosts,” Angela mutters under her breath, as we watch them bickering in the darkness. “Other people are just too much hassle. I always hated having to explain why I was right.”

“Why can't they see us?” I ask.

“Go figure. Maybe 'cause we're ghosts. I don't know, there's got to be some kind of rule. I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually.”

“I'm just going to get out of here,” I say with a sigh. “I've had enough of this madness, I'll take the boat a couple of miles further along and find somewhere else to moor up.”

“That might actually be a good idea,” Angela replies. “The only problem is -”

Suddenly the girl climbs back onto the boat, swinging her torch around and almost blinding me.

“You're an asshole!” she calls back to the guy. “You'd better be quick, okay? I'm not spending more than two goddamn minutes on this boat without you!”

“Chill!” he calls back, already disappearing into the darkness, heading toward the bridge. “This is the discovery of the century, Heather! We're gonna be, like, rich and famous after this!”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a groan, climbing back into the kitchen. “Like this is really Robert Ward's boat, anyway. It's probably just some random weirdo who left it unattended for a few nights.” She turns and leans back out. “You owe me for this!” she yells. “Do you hear me, Gary? You owe me an actual night out, just the two of us, and no ghost-hunting! Do you hear?”

The man shouts something back from the distance, but it's impossible to make his words out.

Muttering under her breath, the girl stomps back into the kitchen and slumps down on the sofa. Angela and I watch as she slouches and folds her arms across her chest, almost as if she's sulking, but a moment later she glances at the backpack. After a few seconds' contemplation, she reaches over and pulls the backpack closer.

“That's mine!” Angela says angrily, hurrying down the steps but stopping to watch as the girl opens the top and pulls out some books.

“She can't see us,” I point out. “Remember? Listen, let's just shift her off my boat so I can get underway again.”

“Bad luck,” Angela replies. “Her boyfriend's bringing reinforcements. Once they get here, your precious boat's gonna be overrun by assholes.”

“I will not allow that!” I say firmly.

“Then we need to get creative,” she replies, reaching past me and flicking the switch on the wall, plunging the boat's interior into darkness.

“What the hell?” the girl stammers, sounding shocked.

“Prepare to get haunted, bitch,” Angela says firmly.

A moment later, the girl finds the switch and hits it again, bringing the light back. She glances around cautiously, although she clearly can't see us, and finally she heads back to the sofa.

Angela immediately reaches out and turns the light off again.

“What the -”

In the darkness, I can just about hear the girl fumbling for something. A moment later, her torch is switched on and she shines the beam toward us before casting it all around the room, as if she's looking for someone.

“Gary?” she calls out. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

She waits.

I turn to Angela and see fierce determination in her eyes as she watches the girl.

“Great,” the girl mutters, setting her torch on the table and then coming back over to find the switch. “Just what I needed, a haunted light-bulb. Can tonight possibly get any suckier?”

“This is ridiculous,” I say with a sigh. “We just have to -”

Before I can finish, Angela steps over to the table and pushes the torch, sending it rolling off the edge until it crashes down to the floor. As it lands, there's a loud cracking sound and the light dies.

“What the actual...”

The girl flicks the main light on again and then heads back over to the table. Crouching down, she picks the torch up and gives it a shake, before fiddling with the battery housing in an attempt to get the damn thing working again. She mutters under her breath, and it's clear that she knows the torch is already beyond repair.

“Oh no,” Angela mutters sourly, “what a shame.”

With that, she flicks the switch on the wall once more, plunging the cabin back into darkness.

“Well this is fun,” the girl says, fumbling her way over toward us. She flicks the switch again, but Angela immediately flicks it off again.

The girl sighs.

This time, Angela starts hitting the switch over and over again, turning the light on and off several times.

“What the hell?” the girl stammers as the lights continue to flicker. After a moment, she takes a step back and bumps against the sideboard. “Gary, is that you? Craig? This isn't funny, guys! Are you really
this
goddamn immature! Come back and fix the lights
now
!”

She waits.

Still, Angela is flicking the lights on and off.

Silence.

“You owe me for a new torch, assholes!” she hisses, before hurrying past us and back out of the boat. “I'm out of here!”

I turn to Angela, and she simply shrugs before leaving the lights off and following. Figuring that I should at least find out what's going to happen next, I climb out after them, just in time to see the girl jumping off onto the towpath and Angela doing the same a moment later.

“Gary!” the girl yells, cupping her hands around her mouth as she looks out into the darkness. She sounds scared now, even if she clearly doesn't want to admit that anything's wrong. “Can you please get your ass back here? The goddamn lights on this boat are freaking me the hell out!”