Ghost Program (9 page)

   I hastily packed up my things and retraced my steps towards Mr. Breame’s office.  He had probably seen my phone lying on the floor or something and placed it in his office.  I was scared I wouldn’t find it.  I wouldn’t have cared about the silly electronic, but having or not having a cell phone could easily make the difference between being alone and having a lifeline to those I loved.

   I walked down that same desolate hallway in the computer wing.  Because it was getting close to lunch, there were few students in the hallway.  Abandonment leant a sad and eerie feeling to the old building, and as I looked at the stained tile ceilings and cracked linoleum floor, I wished that I had asked Mel to walk with me.  She owed me a favor anyway; I had brought her a few bottles of wine out of mom’s pantry and loaned her my leather Nordstrom jacket, besides which it would have only taken fifteen minutes.  I looked down the corridor, realizing that I was the only one in it, and my hollow footsteps sounded sad and friendless.  Most everyone had walked off campus; I was the only one walking back towards class.

   I slowed as I approached Mr. Breame’s office.  For some reason, my heart began to pound in my chest.  The man made me uncomfortable.  Slowly, cautiously, hiding myself from his view, I watched him.  He was on the telephone, and I strained to listen to what he was saying into the mouthpiece. 

   “I’m telling you it’s the real thing,” he said.  “The girl’s program actually works.  I think we’ll be able to summon the Dark Lord.”

   He paused as if listening while wearing a sour expression.

   “Well, then you spend the rest of your life working for pennies, slaving for an ungrateful university, but I guarantee you, it won’t be worth your time.  I’m
never
going to have anything unless I call him.  No, when I die, the only things I’ll have left behind are my pathetically untalented students and my own unending poverty.”  He slammed the phone down into the receiver, clearly annoyed at the person on the other end.

   I bit my lip to stop from gasping.  What had I done?  On the corner of his desk was a plastic basket filled with odds and ends, and at the top of the pile, I saw my cell phone.  As much as I hated to announce my presence, I had to retrieve my phone.  I held my breath until my lungs burned, then let the air out all at once, strolled into his office, reached down to grab my phone, muttered a quick
Thanks, Mr. Breame
, and walked out.  Then I ran to the parking lot where my car was parked, dodging the obvious question written all over the man’s face, the one that asked
Was I eavesdropping and how much had I heard?

   I sat in the seat of my small Toyota and clicked my phone on, seeing that there was a missed call from Brent’s cell.  I was so relieved that he hadn’t forgotten about me that I couldn’t contain myself, and my hands shook as I hit the call back button.

   “Brent?” I asked.

   “Samantha?  I tried calling you earlier, but you must have been in class.”

   “I was.  I just got out.”

   “I just wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly.  I hope you’re not mad but I took off around a quarter to six and didn’t want to wake you.”

   “It’s okay.”

   “The road was a mess.  Near where the tree fell, they only had one lane open, and there were these flaggers standing out there in the dark, letting the cars through.  I asked them if I-5 was open or was there a detour, and they said it was fine and I could go ahead and take it.”

   “You probably coulda skipped class,” I told him.  “Lots of people did, not everyone got their power back on yet.”

   “I wish I had,” he said.  “I’d still be with you.”

   “Yeah,” I said.  There was an awkward silence.

   “I probably won’t be able to come down till the weekend, but I’d like to come sooner.  It’s just...gas is so damn expensive.”

   “I got a stash of twenties under my mattress.  Come.  Please.  I hate being in that house by myself.  Do you work this evening?”

   “I don’t get off till 7:30, there’s no way I’d get to you till about 9:30.”

   “Shit,” I said.  “You’d better just stay put, then.  It’s okay, you know?  There’s just some things I wanted to talk about.”

   “You could tell me now.”

   “You’ll think I’m silly.”

   “I won’t think that.”

   “You know Mr. Breame?”

   “Who?”

   “I had a dream about him last night.  Well, I turned my Casper software in this morning....”

   “What’s wrong,” Brent snickered.  “He give you a bad grade?”

   “No.  I left my cell phone in his class and went to his office hours.  He...he was talking about it on the phone to someone, about my project.  He said he needed it to call on the Dark Lord.”

   I heard laughter from the speaker.  I didn’t blame him, it sounded so ridiculous.

   “Who the hell is the Dark Lord?  You think your math teacher is some kind of Satanist?”

   “That’s just it.  It don’t know, but I have this bad feeling.”

   “Heaven and Hell aren’t real, Sam.  Just ways for people to explain their irrational fears.  Or a way of frightening children into behaving.  What you overheard....it’s probably just insane ramblings.”

   “I know, and if
I
heard this from someone else,
I’d
just dismiss the whole thing.  But I have this bad feeling in my gut.  I feel like, if the Dark Lord isn’t real, at the very least, Mr. Breame thinks he is.  And he’s planning on doing something terrible.  Something that will hurt people.  Oh Brent, I never should have given him that software.  It was a mistake!”

   “I’m sure the man’s harmless.  Maybe he belongs to some weird cult, and your software is just feeding his delusions.”

   “You didn’t see the look on his face.  He looked so smug.”

   “There’s no Dark Lord.”

   “Could it be some kind of Seaside myth?”

   “Ask around.  Google it.  But yes, it’s likely that the Dark Lord is myth, urban legend.  Wishful thinking on your teacher’s part.”

   “You changed your mind about spending the summer with me?” I asked.

   “Of course not.  Unless
you
have.”

   “No.  It’ll be fun.  I’ll be glad to get away from my house.  Too many weird things going on there.”

   “Don’t bring them to Seattle.”

   “I’m planning on leaving them at home, remember?  What did mom say when you went downstairs this morning?”

   “There was no one awake, Sam.  I left before anyone had gotten up.”

   “Dad didn’t make it home last night.  He stayed at a motel.  I guess the road was closed for hours.”

   “Musta been.  The whole city looks trashed.  Tree branches and garbage everywhere.  I’m surprised things are moving as well as they are.”

   “I’m afraid to take a shower.”

   “I’m sorry.  I wish I could help.  Why don’t you use the bathroom in the master bedroom downstairs?”

   “I guess.”

   “Sure.  And you wouldn’t have to shower.  You could take a bath instead.”

   The shower in my folks’ room was separate from their jacuzzi bath. 

   “It’s my parents’ tub.  Not sure I want to bathe in it or how clean it is.  I
liked
the upstairs bath.  Until yesterday.  It was mine alone, my personal space that no one trespassed in.  Now I can’t stand being there.”

   “Bring a friend with you while you shower.”

   “I’m sure you’d like that.  Come to my house and watch me shower.”

   “Maybe a girlfriend could come over.”

   “Then she’d wonder why I want her to see me shower.  She’d think I was some kind of pervert.”

   “You could tell her why.”

   I didn’t want to.

   “I have a better idea.  I’ll call Mel and ask if I can stay the night with her.  Then I wouldn’t have to embarrass myself.”

   “It’s not your fault.  I mean, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed that someone broke in your house...”

   “It wasn’t
someone
,” I said.  “It was
something
.  And you know it, so don’t say you don’t.  I’m not about to go telling my friends that I’m being attacked by the dead.  Then they’ll stop calling me.  They won’t tell me why, but I’ll know.  I don’t want to be
that
person.  Besides, I have this dread, you know, that if I keep talking about
Him
,
He’ll
come back.  Like I may be summoning
Him
.”

   “Sorry, just trying to help.”

   “Why am I being bothered at all?  I haven’t got anything for
them
.  You know, the ghosts.  There’s nothing I can do for them.”

   “They’re probably just tired of being ignored all these years, and you’re an outlet.  They’re no longer silenced or unable to communicate.  They’re seeking you out because they know you spoke to Gregg, and word spread around.”

   “So what.... do they gossip about me, the dead that is?  Is that what happens when we die, we just hang out with all the other unlucky souls at Starbucks or a local bar, wondering when the living will know we’re there with them?  Wondering when they’ll see us?  Sounds awful depressing to me.”

   “I don’t know.  I haven’t died yet.”  He chuckled.  “If I do die, I’ll be sure to visit your house and let you know.”

   “Oh God, don’t say that.  Don’t even joke about it.  It’s unlucky.  I don’t know what I’d do.  I don’t have that many close friends.  You’ve become so precious to me.”

   “And just think, we were only distant acquaintances till yesterday.”

   “We weren’t so distant,” I said.

   “I didn’t know you much.  Hell, mostly I’d come to your house just so you could
pay
me.  Just a job, I never thought you saw me as anything other than the hired help.”

   “You’re good at what you do.  The students you tutor, I’m sure they appreciate you more than they let on.”

   “I could help you everyday if you came to city.”

   “I know.”

   There was another awkward silence.  I silently cursed myself for not starting my first year at university.  Why did I think it’d be easier to spend a year at my parent’s house?  If anything, it had stifled me.

   “Sam?” asked Brent.  “Don’t spend too much time alone.  I worry about you.  It’s safer for you be with someone, even if it’s just your mom.”

   “But she’s crazy.  If I chilled with her all day, I’d probably start acting crazy, too.”

   “You could help her shop for groceries or something.  It’s just for two weeks.  You shouldn’t be in that big house alone.  The next time something happens, Gregg may not be there.  What are you gonna do this afternoon?”

   “I hadn’t thought about it.  Maybe get some lunch, then go work out.  And I sometimes head to the library to get homework done.  I sure don’t have to go home.”

   “That sounds like a plan.  I’m gonna go get a couple tacos from this great stand a block from my apartment.”

   “Is that where you are, your apartment?”

   “Yep.”

   “I’ll talk to you later, Brent.”

   “Bye. Call soon,” he said.

   I clicked off the phone.  I wasn’t much hungry but I started the small car and drove to a deli across the street where I ordered a ham sandwich and café au lait.  I could’ve have eaten in my car, but the restaurant was pleasant and filled with people on their lunch break.  I took a seat with an ocean view, and from there I could watch the ocean liners and sailboats floating around in the water.  I watched two seagulls fighting over a mussel and sighed.  Seaside today looked nothing like it had yesterday.  I was surprised that the sailboats hadn’t been wrecked in the storm and realized that people who lived here possessed an unnatural resiliency to the forces of nature.

   I finished my sandwich and brought my plate to the counter.  Pushing open the heavy door of the restaurant, I stopped dead in my tracks.  In the far corner of the shopping complex was an outdoor espresso stand.  And who should be standing in line, waiting to order, but Mr. Breame himself?  Yes, he was ordering coffee from the same strip mall sidewalk on which I stood. 

   I’d seen him leaving class a couple of times and knew his car.  It was a turquoise Nissan.  And that Nissan was parked two stalls down from my car.  Out of curiosity, I walked towards it and looked through its window.  Taking a deep breath, I yanked on the passenger door handle, certain that the door would be locked, but it surprised me by opening.  Mr. Breame had left it unlocked the way people do in a small town if they’re only going to be out of their car for a few minutes.  I nervously glanced towards him, but he was studying the coffee stand menu and didn’t see me.  His little plastic box was on the seat, and I opened it, finding my thumb drive inside along with some of his personal disks and a calculator.  I snatched at the thumb drive and shoved it in my pocket, then bumped the door shut with my hip.  I was afraid of what this would do to my grade if Mr. Breame found out the thumb drive was gone but more afraid of whatever evil he planned on creating with it.  I couldn’t let him have Casper until I knew who or what the Dark Lord was and if he posed any real threat.