Ghost Program (15 page)

   “I’m only staying another week.”

   “I’m gonna get the crackers and cheese.”  He crawled forward on the bed, reached over to the desk, and grabbed the Ritz crackers and can of processed cheese, then crawled back next to me.  “This isn’t a bad lunch.”

   “I already ate a hamburger.”

   “Well, this is it for me.  Not too bad, though.”  He squeezed a dollop of cheese out of the can and onto a cracker.

   I took another swig of wine and handed him the bottle.  He took a sip to wash down the cracker.

   “You know what would be good with wine?” I said.  “The chocolates that you brought.  We can share them.”  I picked up the box of expensive chocolates that he had brought me and opened them.  “Ohh!  They’re so fancy.  Here’s one shaped like a snail!”  I pulled it out.  It was white chocolate with swirls of brown chocolate and shaped like a little beach snail.  I popped it in my mouth and moaned at the explosion of raspberry and chocolate in my mouth.  I washed it down with more wine.

   Brent smiled, pleased that his gift had brought me such pleasure.  “Slide closer.  I’ll pick the next one for you to eat.  Let me put it in your mouth.”

   “If you say so.”  I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing, but I soon found out.

   Brent lifted a caramel square out of the plastic tray and placed it in his front teeth, then brought his mouth to mine and let go.  “How’s that?” he asked.  “Good?”

   “Mhhhhmmmmm.”  I couldn’t answer as my mouth was full of candy. 

   “Don’t say anything,” he said.  He ran his fingers through my hair and gently twisted the strands into a bun behind my head as he slid his other hand underneath the waistband of my pajama pants and into my panties.  He found the spot between my legs that he was looking for, and I moaned and squirmed.  “Shh,” he said, then let go of my hair and shoved a truffle in my mouth while his other hand continued to fondle me as I panted, frantic from the sensation.  Then he laughed and pulled his hand away.  “No more of that till you’re better.  How do you feel, now?”  He wiped his hand on his jeans.

   “What was all that?” I asked, looking at his laughing eyes. 

   “Something to take your mind off of things.”

   “Well, it worked,” I said, my voice a little shaky.  Brent had produced in me a strange mixture of arousal, amazement, and embarrassment.

   “We’ll get back to that when you’re less broken.”  He grabbed my hand and held it in his, studying it for a minute.

   “I should finish my term paper,” I said.  I couldn’t think of anything less titillating.  Or a better way to regain my composure.  “Can you fish my laptop off the desk for me?”

   “Yeah.”  Brent handed it to me.  “What’s the paper about?  Mind me asking?”

   “The thesis is about the search for a thesis.”

   “Seriously, or is that a joke?”

   “No, I’m writing a paper on how I go about finding a thesis for my papers.  It’s kind of instructional, like something a student might want to read.”

   “Geesh.  Now I’ve heard everything.”

   “It’s never been done before by a student.  A thesis paper about thesis papers.”

   “You’re the first.”

   “Yeah.  Do you got anything you gotta get done?”

   “There’s a Biochem 351 exam tomorrow.”

   “We can study a little, then maybe think of something else to do.”

   “Besides drinking wine and eating chocolate?”

   “Yeah.”  My head was dizzy from the wine, so now was as good a time as any to do some heavy thinking about my term paper.  A lot of people think that alcohol kills brain cells, but I always thought it made me smarter.

   Brent pulled a heavy book out of his backpack and read for awhile. 

   I worked on my paper.  After thirty minutes of typing, it was finished.  I added my name to the top and e-mailed it to my instructor.  That was my final assignment for English Composition, and I smiled with satisfaction as I knew I had just finished the class for good.  Now I only had to complete calculus III and computer programming, and I’d be ready for my new college.

   I thought back to my time on the yacht.  Back then, I hadn’t believed that I’d survive, let alone finish my term paper.  But everything had worked out, and now I was safe and in the company of a good friend.  I shivered as I remembered Mr. Breame’s rage as he kicked my stomach, then I thought back to my first day in his class.  I hadn’t liked him, but I’d never expected him to be a monster.

   My cell phone rang.  I wondered who it could be.

   “Hello?” I said.

   “Sam?  This is Veronica.”

   “Oh.”  Had I really expected her to call?  I didn’t even know her that well.

   “Do you think we could meet?  There are some things I need to discuss with you.”

   “Well, like what?  What do you need to discuss?”

   “Of course.  I should have explained myself properly.  Remember when you mentioned to me that you’d been...strangled by a phantom?  Sam, I need you to listen now.  It worried me all last night, your words.  I think you may be in danger, and I’d like to help you.  I could come by your house and pick you up.  Please agree.  If something were to happen to you, I’d feel responsible.”

   “Where are we going?” I asked.

   “I’m going to take you to see Karen; she was a friend of mother’s.  She’ll know how to handle your demon problem.  Karen has psychic abilities like mother used to before she passed on, and I’d trust her with anything.  Demons have been known to kill humans, Sam.”

   “I’ll come, but I’m not in the best of shape, you know.”

   “We’ll try to keep you comfortable.  Can I pick you up?”

   “Yes, come by.”

   I heard her breathe a sign of relief.  “What time will you be ready?”

   “3:30 should be okay.  Just ring my doorbell.  Someone will answer.”

   “Okay, bye.”

   I clicked the phone off.

   “Who was that?” asked Brent.

   “Veronica.  She wants to take me to see a psychic.  Oh!  I forgot to mention you were here.  Are you coming with?”

   “Gee, I’m not so sure you should be getting out of bed.”

   “I’ll be fine.  I’ve been through a lot worse.  Besides, I’ll have you to help me and staring at the ceiling is getting boring, anyway.”

   “What do you want to wear?  I’ll get some clothes out of the closet for you.”

   “Just look in the dresser drawer.  There should be some sweatpants and shirts in there.”

   Brent rummaged around in the drawer and produced a pair of sweats and a crew neck sweatshirt, both in red.  “Will these work?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Let me put them on you.”  He sat down next to me on the bed, then unbuttoned my flannel shirt and carefully pulled it off of my arms.  Then he gently pulled the sweatshirt over my head, and I pushed my arms and head through the holes.  “That didn’t hurt, did it?”

   “No.  But I’m going to put my own pants on.”

   “Okay,” he laughed and handed me my sweats.

   I pulled my pajama pants off, struggling to remove them from my casted ankle, then folded them and placed them on a corner of the bed.  I wiggled into my sweats, sliding them over my hips as Brent placed his science book back into his backpack and smiled at me.

   I reclined on my back, using my pillow to lift my head.

   “Who is this Veronica?” asked Brent.

   “She rescued me after I washed up on the beach.”

   “You washed up on the beach?”

   “Yeah.  I was half dead.  She and her husband carried me into the house.”

   “How did you not drown?  You wore a life preserver?  The water out there’s awfully cold.  That’s a long, cold swim.”

   “Give me some credit.  For all you know, I could be an Olympic level swimmer.”

   “But you’re not, I take it.”

   I didn’t answer for a minute, and he said, “Sam?”

   “No, I jumped off the yacht after Mr. Breame and his friend were killed.  I should have died, but I was carried out of the water by the Dark Lord and found by Veronica.”

   “I though the Dark Lord was bad.”

   “He kind of is, but he thought I was his wife.”

   “He thought he was saving her,” Brent pointed out.  “But he really was saving you.”

   “Yes, because in real life, she was murdered in his house.  He couldn’t save her then, so he saves women that he finds now.  And in doing so, he believes that he is rewriting his own life history.”

   “That his wife survived the attack,” said Brent.

   “Yes.  No, I don’t think he’s all bad.  He’s racked with guilt over his wife’s brutal killing.  He let her die and didn’t save her.  I’m still afraid, though.  Professor Whittington told me that sometimes he takes them.”

   “Takes who?”

   “The women he saves.”

   “Well, where does he take them?”

   “That’s what frightens me.  I don’t know.  What if he takes me?”

   “I doubt you’d happily go along with him.”

   “What if I don’t have any choice in the matter?”  I shivered as I remembered the Dark Lord’s hulking form.  “I don’t want him to take, me.  You’re not going to let him take me, are you Brent?”

   “He is not going to take you.  I’m sorry there is no way to entirely convince you of that.  You are not going to die; you must have some faith in yourself, in those who care about, and the universe at large.  Without that faith in the greater good, you will indeed live a difficult existence.  I think that we’d better go see Veronica’s friend and see where it goes from there.  I have a feeling she’ll have some answers for you.  For both of us.  You’re going to be okay, Sam.  Do you believe me?”

   “I guess,” I said softly.

   “That is not what I wanted to here.”

   “Yes.”

   “That’s better.  Strength comes from having some trust in yourself and those around you.”  Brent gave my hand a squeeze.  “It’s just a week, Sam, and you’ll leave all this behind to attend university.  Just a week, so close that you’re almost there.”

   “Are you really staying the night?”

   “I wish I didn’t have to leave in the morning.  It’ll be hard for me.”

   “We’ll both be at UW in a week.  And then I’ll see you everyday.”

   “Bet you’ll be glad to leave this place behind.”

   “You have no idea.”

   “How’s the pain?”

   “It’s not so bad.”

   “I could get an ice pack or something.”

   “That’s not necessary.”

   “Are you sure you want to be up and moving around today?  It must be hell on your ribs.”

   “So’s breathing.  But I’ve done plenty of that.”

     The doorbell rang.

   “That must be her,” I said.  “Can you answer it?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Hurry back.”

   Brent hurried out of the room, and I heard his footsteps descend the stairs and the front door open.  There was a muted conversation downstairs, but I was too far away understand the words.  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and my bedroom door opened.

   “I think it’s best I carry you to the car,” said Brent.  “I’ll come back for your purse and crutches.”

   “You don’t have to; I can walk.”

   “I know, but the stairs are going to aggravate you, and I don’t want you to tire easily as we may have a long day ahead of us.”

   “You’re not going to drop me, are you?  ‘Cause that would really tire me out.”

   “I won’t.  I’m stronger than I look.”

   “Well....”  I sighed, but didn’t resist as he lifted me.

   I grasped onto his neck for dear life as we climbed downstairs, afraid of being dropped onto the floor, but Brent was graceful and commanding, and he walked onto the front porch and down the steps to Veronica’s Cadillac.  I was shocked to see three reporters still lingering about in the driveway.

   “That’s her,” said one, a short, chubby man in a brown suit.

   “Were you really taken by the Seaside Strangler?” asked a skinny, blonde with a large camera dangling from her neck.  She pointed the lens at me as a camera flash went off.

   I looked up at Brent who was breathing heavily; I must’ve weighed a ton.  He was watching the news people with an irritated look in his grey eyes.

   “You don’t have to talk to them, Sam.”  He walked towards Veronica’s car.  She was already in the driver’s seat.

   “Yes,” I stated simply to the reporters.  “I am all fucked up.”  That sent two reporters scribbling furiously in their notepads, except for the chubby man who had a tiny video camera.  The camera embarrassed me; I hadn’t done my hair or makeup.

   Brent placed me ever so gently into the plush passenger seat as I flinched, certain that I’d get jarred silly as soon as I hit the seat, but my descent was surprisingly gentle.  Veronica was already in the driver’s seat, wearing a soft blue dress and white leggings, and she squeezed my hand.